The Boyfriend App のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 91 - チャプター 100

There was no haunted house in the landscape of Kate’s childhood but there was the haunted backyard garden of sugar-apple trees owned by Aling Sita. Aling Sita, short for Teresita, was a different nightmare mainstay altogether. Neither witch nor supernatural monster, it was rumored that she was the member of a Tad-tad (Chop) cult in Southern Philippines who fled to Concepcion City when there was heat on her fanatical group at the dawn of the millennium, around year 2000. Chop cults were small Catholic sects that had broken away from the dominant Roman Catholic and Protestant churches in the country. They were also remnants of government-created mercenary groups that fought Moslem and communist guerrillas in the ’70s. As a Chop cultist, Aling Sita was suspected of hypnotism, brain-cannibalism, digging up kneecaps from the public cemetery to use as amulets, owning T-shirts scrawled with folk Latin prayers, and wielding their trademark machete to deflect bullets. You can imagine that, no

“Who are they from?” Kate asks Yssy in a soft, gurgly baby voice. “A boy named Chester Araullo,” Yssy explains, showing her the return address on the envelopes, which – another weird thing – has been printed out and pasted. “I nicked them from Ms. Perfect’s wastebasket when I brought her dinner to her office. And not only that… I also brought you… these!” Kate’s eyes bulge at the sight of two pieces of lumpia spring rolls wrapped in tissue paper. “Ohhh, give me! Give me!” she moans; the miraculous letters temporarily forgotten. It’s love at first bite. She closes her eyes, relishing the salty taste of the crepe pastry skin. “Thank you,” she finally manages to tell Yssy, after a second big bite and with her mouth full. “You literally saved my life.” “Gosh, don’t mention it. I know you’d do the same for me if our positions were reversed.” “For sure!” Kate says while chewing contently. “Anyway, eat them all up because you deserve it,” Yssy says after she has placed the mysteriou

In no time, Kate reaches the church, which is actually more of a chapel based on its size. {Would you look at that,} she thinks to herself. {All those marches are actually paying off.} They have worship in the chapel every Sunday and rosary novena every Saturday. Ms. Blanca and the subdivision priest are practically chums, so Kate has to take extra care not to be discovered by any chapel staff. As usual, the place is vacant and as quiet as a mausoleum. Kate once again feels clueless as to why campers are prohibited from dropping by here unscheduled. The solitude the chapel offers would definitely do more for the campers than Ms. Perfect’s psychology exercises. Proof of that is how Kate’s starting to feel quite mellow and meditative right now. The doors are open for any late-evening churchgoer. She guesses not a few of the ultra-rich residents of that subdivision have guilt pangs as the night gets deeper. The lights are dimmed to save energy but it doesn’t matter because there are

In Hollywood movies, the characters can always recall the contact number of their loved ones. But because most cellphone accounts are prepaid in the Philippines and SIM cards are nearly disposable, a Filipino changes phone numbers faster than they change phone cases. When Kate still had her smartphone, for instance, Lor had several entries on her Contacts list: | Lor Lor2 Lorfinal Lorultimate Lorultimateult etc. | Kate remembers her parents’ cell number; only that one and only because her ma forced her to memorize it before her banishment. Mrs. Lapuz also wrote it down on a page torn from a spiral notebook. From memory, Kate dials the number now. Ring… ring… “Hello,” her ma answers with a mix of mild annoyance and worry. “Who’s this?” ‘It’s me, ma,” Kate replies, trying hard not to burst into tears. Before she made the call, she promised herself she wasn’t going to cry, but the sound of her ma’s voice and the realization of how much she has missed it got to her. “Kate, my

“What’s the meaning of this?” Ms. Perfect roars as soon as she has caught her breath. “Do you know how much this rice cooker costs? It’s imported all the way from Japan and it has a microchip and uses fuzzy logic!” Kate lifts her horrified eyes to meet Ms. Perfect’s angry ones. Yssy thinks Kate should win the FAMAS Best Actress Award because her eyes reflect a complex mix of incomprehension, shock and guilt. Inside though, it isn’t lost on the two roomies that Ms. Perfect, a self-proclaimed Luddite, uses words like “microchip” and “fuzzy logic” (whatever that is) under stress. “I-I don’t know what happened, Ms. Perfect!” Kate stammers. “Honest! The last thing I remember I was lying down on my bed and, the next minute, I’m here and you’re standing in front of me!” “She must’ve sleepwalked!” Yssy supports with not a small amount of awe in her voice. “Somnambulism, huh?” Ms. Perfect says while setting down the rice cooker safely on Kate’s study table, which is nearer to the door. Th