. v7.1________bLockLovE .

Going back: Memories of 15 Winston Street.
by madelicious

I know the place like the back of my hand. 15 Winston Street. The block party place. It's the place. Fucken place of bitter memories.

I just want to go back to the good old days when life was simple and I was only preoccupied with one thing, one person, one at a time.

Who would forget Cleng talking to an immobile fork? Not to mention Yen picking a fight with Cleng with only the bathroom door separating them? And then Yen goes down to the pool, dipper in hand, and takes a bath? Who would forget Albert eating up the pomelo mix? And me, wasting a little gin because the first shot had gone immediately to my head? And who would forget John's extra rich white sauce?

And of course, the open forum-cum-talk-cum-confessions.

[I hated that talk. It makes me feel stupid and fuckenly naïve up to now.]

I have to say. 15 Winston Street brings back a lot of good and bad memories. Good memories because of the block love; bad memories because of whathefuck. But since I'm the kind of person who's bitter and pessimistic, I often remember the bad ones more. Damn. I really should consider a change in outlook.

But then, not all bad things are meant to last forever.

I went back to 15 Winston Street on account of a final production I had to do for an organization I was applying for. I was quite wary of the memories the place held for me. Seeing the old gate made me cry. And for a second there, I was afraid I'd be unable to pull off the production.

Surprise, surprise. Better memories are in store for me at 15 Winston Street.

There would be the ambiance of it all. A final production, complete with food, drinks and a swimming pool. There would be my friends, my co-applicants, who were great people with real things to offer. And of course, there was the matter of my *happy thought*.

He's a year younger than me; height just about the same as mine. The difference ends there. He's the happy-go-lucky type whose smile brightens up my day and whose warm hugs are enough to chase away my moods. I mean it. Real real nice boy, who'd never fail to greet me every single day.

It's pretty hard to forget the night at 15 Winston Street. The 'thing' that makes me smile even up to now. And to think the 'thing' happened in front of so many people, yet almost no one noticed what we were up to.

The setting: dressing room. Girls in various stages of undress, two guys wandering around, unperturbed by naked girls. I, for one, was walking around with only my pants on and a black bra. Someone had borrowed my shirt. Meanwhile, *he* was looking for a belt for his pants, and since I had my garrison belt on, I took it off for him.

'Good luck sa number mo mamaya,' I told him.

'Oo nga e, baka mahirapan ako sa Legs Legs Legs number. Di ko alam kung paano maging macho,' he joked.

I gave him a cunning smile as I sidled up to him and said, 'Gusto mong turuan kita?'

And then, the boy blows me away.

He takes three steps toward me, my belt in hand. He puts it on my shoulders and on my neck, and slowly pulls me toward him. Ooohh. The room is getting hot.

Until there was no space, no gap between us. I could feel his heat through the warm leather jacket. Damn damn damn. The moment was there. I joked, 'Di ba dapat ako gumagawa niyan?'

Then the boy takes off the belt, puts it around his own neck, and gives me the belt for me to tug him closer to me. He says, 'O, ayan na. Ano na gagawin natin?'

The bait was there. Damn. I was about to take it. I was zooming in for a liplock, and he seemed ready to take it. Then one of our batchmates notices what we were up to and says, 'Hoy, mamaya na yan. May prod pa tayo.'

Damn damn damn. If she hadn't pulled me away, he and I would have been romping on the bed nearby.

Boy, I loved that night. Too many things had happened; too many fun memories; too precious to ignore. I also loved the day of my induction. Same place, 15 Winston Street. *Happy thought* was especially sweet that day. After the ceremonial jump in the pool, he hugged me from behind as he whispered into my ear a mouthful of congratulations. Damn. I could have stayed in his arms forever.

Sappy sappy sappy. Same old line I told myself after the block party. At that time, I wanted to stay at Winston forever. Dreams are made of fantasies, and at that time, I had one such sappy dream. The dream gets shattered, and God finds a way to make thing a little easier.

He replaced my bad memories of 15 Winston Street with better, newer, sweeter memories. Happier. Lighter.

Like I said, not all bad things are meant to last forever.