Pointing north through every storm.
When I can’t see through the night,
You’re the fire, you’re the light.
Every road, every mile,
You make it all worthwhile.
No matter how far I run,
You’re my compass, you’re my sun.
When I look up, still playing away, Brooks looks awestruck, his hands covering his mouth. He’s blinking rapidly, as if he too is fightingback tears, just as I am. I continue onto my second verse…
I’ve been chasing empty dreams,
Maps that led to hollow things.
But your truth, it anchors me,
In your love, I’m finally free.
Even when I lose my way,
Your heart is my hiding place.
If I wander, if I roam,
You’re the pull that brings me home.
I circle around to the chorus once more, then I slow down the pace of the song a little. Lowering my voice, I sing the last verse. Not once do my eyes leave his, and I croon with an earnestness that nearly leaves me rasping…
In this world that spins so fast,
You’re the one thing built to last.
With you, I know who I am,
You’re my compass, you’re my land.
As I wrap up the song, I’m met with a round of applause, and even some hoots and whistles. Brooks rises from his seat, weaves his way through the tables, and throws himself into my arms. The applause gets even louder, and one woman even shouts, “If he doesn’t marry you, I will!”
I give my naked ring finger a fleeting glance. It’s now that I realize that the specific tattoo I have on my left ring finger isthat of a compass. Not the captain’s wheel, not the anchor, not the pirate dagger—the compass rose is right on that specific finger.
Another sign. Always another sign.
Brooks and I take the long way back to the apartment, taking advantage of the clear, warm night to go for a bike ride down the coastline. When I still am not ready to go back, I opt to surprise him yet again, by parking down by the marina and taking Brooks by the hand, walking him down the docks, until I get to Gannett’s slip. Brooks looks around skeptically, like we’re doing something nefarious, when I guide him onto my brother’s pleasure craft, find his hideaway key, and start the engine.
I chuckle. “Don’t worry, it’s my brother’s boat. When he goes camping, he does it on the water. We’re not doing anything wrong.”
“Oh,” he sighs, redness creeping into his cheeks.
I waggle my eyebrows. “There’s a bed down below deck. But if you prefer some sea air and a chorus of gulls cheering you on while you sit on my face, we can totally do it up here too. I’m really up for anything, just as long as we don’t arrive back here with anything less than thoroughly spent dicks.”
“Jeeze, tall order,” he teases, smiling coyly at me.
“Hey, I wrote a whole friggin’ song for you. All I’m demanding is a couple of orgasms—a piece. I don’t think that’s too much to ask for, is it? You’re all about those IOU’s,” I taunt back.
