Eastern Lights (Compass 2)

It was breathtaking. Everything looked so stunning from up so high.

“Wow,” I whispered.

“Exactly,” Captain replied, taking my hand into his. Every time he did that, I liked his touch a little more.

We moved to the edge of the rooftop and he pointed out at the busy city, eyes widened with passion.

“This is it, this is what I want to do. While I’m in the real estate world, that’s not my biggest dream. My biggest dream is to create. I want to create, and I want to build. I want to buy buildings like that one right there and flip them into luxury condominiums for the lower class. Just think, Red. How crazy would it be to create something of luxury for people who are so far overlooked?”

“That’s an amazing idea, but wouldn’t that cost a lot of money?”

“Yes.” He clapped his hands together and was smiling bigger than he had all night. “That’s why I’m on a mission to make a shit ton of money. I don’t care if I lose some if I have a crap ton. I want to give back to people who grow up without a lot. Then on top of the buildings, we can have greenhouses so the community has their own gardens to pick from throughout the summer and fall seasons. Community gardens could change and save so many lives. It would be great. The facilities could have activities for kids whose parents are working two or three jobs, to keep them out of trouble. Plus, the units could have deep soaking tubs for the single parents who need a few moments of solitude to themselves.” He stared out at the city lights and placed his hands against the back of his head. “I want this so bad. I just want to help people.”

His passion sat right there behind his eyes. Every word he was delivering my way was coming straight from the depths of his soul. When he spoke about his dream, I could feel it increasing my heartbeats.

It made me think I wasn’t thinking big enough for my own goals in life.

“I think that’s a beautiful dream,” I commented, standing next to him. I didn’t think he noticed, but I’d inched closer to him because I liked the warmth he gave off.

“It’s going to happen,” he said, nodding in pure bliss. “And it’s going to be beautiful.”

“What made you have this dream?”

He looked my way and then took a seat on the pebbled ground. I sat right beside him. He bent his knees and wrapped his arms around them. “I grew up poor. My mom was a single parent, and we had pretty much nothing to our name. It got even worse when she learned of her cancer.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, nudging my knee slightly with his. “She’s okay. She’s been in remission for years, thank God. But, growing up struggling without much comfort in our home, in our lives, made me passionate about this. At a young age, I learned how to hustle, how to move in a way that enabled me to get what I needed for myself and my mom. But I understand I was luckier than most. I lived in a small town where people helped each other, and I think a lot of people felt bad for me, so they gave to my random entrepreneurial endeavors. Where I grew up, people took care of each other.”

“So the complete opposite of New York City.”

He laughed. “The complete opposite.”

“I think that’s noble. I grew up on these streets without a lot, so I know how hard it can be to struggle to keep stable physically and mentally. I couldn’t imagine doing it with a kid.”

“A lot of times, I don’t know how my mom did it, honestly. Superhero, I guess.”

“Must run in the family. I can’t help but wonder what Captain America’s mother would be like,” I said, wrapping my arms around my legs.

“I would say she’s like Wonder Woman, but since I just got my ass handed to me by said woman, I’m not much of a fan anymore.”

I smiled. “You’re close to your mom.”

“Not to sound like a punk, but she’s my best friend.”

That made my heart grin. A mama’s boy. “And your dad?”

His energy shifted to a more somber tone. He shook his head. “Deadbeat. Ran off after cheating on my mom when I was a kid.”

“Have you ever tried to find him?”

“No. I figured if he was a real man, he would try to find me. I spent eighteen years of my life sitting in the same place. He knew where I was and still didn’t come.” He began fidgeting with his fingers, seemingly a nervous habit or something he did when uncomfortable.

I kind of liked that about him—how I’d seen so many of his different layers within such a short period. I’d seen him happy, I’d seen him passionate, and I’d seen him somber. Somehow that made him more human than the superhero persona he was putting on that evening.