The Good Pass

It's a coed retreat so it can't be St Scho but it sure looks like the St Scho retreat house in Tagaytay and there are 30 of us to a room -- boys and girls! We even have unisex bathrooms!

Everyday, a trainer teaches me how to play soccer. None of us have any of our old clothes so we're outfitted with all the clothes we'll ever need. I have all these cool Adidas sportswear in my closet. I get to wear a new combination everyday.

Our days are busy and the house gets pretty chaotic but even so our society, because that's what we've become, is peaceful like we know Big Brother is Watching.

Moe sleeps across from me. We don't talk. We don't even look at each other directly but I look when I think he doesn't notice and he looks when he thinks I don't notice. We've memorized each other's movements so we don't have to cross each other on the aisles between the beds or have to be in the unisex bathroom at the same time or have to eat together. Sometimes, it can't be helped that we're being trained together but even on the field we don't say a word to each other. No one can tell we were friends or that we even met before.

Moe and I are ever so civil like strangers are to one another. One day, playing on the field, the day he wore his blue jacket and me my white, I almost called out to him, "Here, here! Pass to me!" But I stopped myself but I think he understood anyway because he kicked the ball to me and I was so embarrassed that I botched the good pass.

That night, we followed our unspoken routine. We never crossed each other on the aisle, we never used the unisex at the same time. Right across from me, can you imagine? And not a word. I said to myself, "Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will set this right."

The next day he was gone. His bed was made. On my bed, beside my pillow was a package he left. Bric-a-brac, pictures of us, (returned) letters from me to him, letters he wrote to me.

I open one and start to read. "Dear Camille." I cry so much that I can't read anymore.

Then I hear the bell that means it's time to train so I leave the package there on my bed and soon forget about it. I even manage to convince myself that I was just dreaming. There was no Moe and no package. It was just a dream.