Chapter Nineteen
Roman
I was up even earlier than usual Monday morning. It was still dark out and I didn't have to be awake, but I couldn't sleep. It had been this way the last three years... Well, the two years before this last one. The start of summer semester.
As a player, it had never been an option for me to skip it. Summer was pool parties and trips overseas for a lot of students, but for us, it was summer training. Obviously, with that, we had had to take classes, too.
If you had been slacking off, summer was the best time to try raise your GPA since it wasn't as busy as the normal semesters. I wasn't a student anymore, but summer training sounded pretty good to me right then. It didn't matter how good I knew I was. If you didn't practice a skill, you lost it, it was simple as that.
The training in the army had kept me pretty conditioned, but I knew I needed to get actual play time, get my head in the game again. I was excited. I was ready to get started – I needed a life again. Ron was back in my arms, almost a sure thing; all I needed now was a way into the league.
Coach Fitz had set the meeting for noon. I was knocking at his door with a couple minutes to spare. He barked at me to come in.
What was the deal with coaches? Why were they always overweight? Why didn't any of them actually look like the athletes they were supposed to train? I wasn't going to say I could do the job, but it just made sense in my head. You didn't go to a doctor who smoked, why would you let a guy who looked like he'd never ran a suicide in his life coach sports?
I didn't know. It added up somehow, and I guess that was the only thing that mattered. Coach Fitz had reportedly played back in the day and injury took him out. He wasn't built like an athlete anymore, but it was clear that the guy knew his stuff. The team had always done great under him.
He looked at me as I took a seat in the chair across from him on the other side of the desk. He took his glasses off and leaned back in his big office chair.
"Roman Blake," he said, a grin spreading across his face.
"Coach," I said back in greeting.
"I had to start Greg Hackman when you left, do you know that? We lost four games back to back."
"Sounds rough; did he get better?"
"He had no choice. He had to fill your big fucking shoes," he said.
I laughed, relaxing a little. Coach had always been hard, pushing us when he knew we were half-stepping it, but he was a pretty cool dude, too. Maybe other guys on the team didn't tell it like that, but that was how he had always been with me.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry I left you in the lurch."
"We lose good guys every year, that wasn't the bad part. It just came out of the blue with you," he said. "Where'd you end up? Korea? Europe?"
"Afghanistan." He whistled.
"Right in the shit, huh? Still got all your factory assembled parts?" he asked, joking. Lucky I did because that wouldn't have went down as smooth if I hadn't.
"Still like new."
"What about this part?" he asked, tapping his finger against his temple. I was glad he wasn't sugar coating it. I didn't like being treated like there might be something wrong with me.
"Sound of body and of mind, Coach. I'm ready to play."
"I bet you are. How much field time did you get in Afghanistan?"
"Not enough," I said. More like none. "That's why I'm here now."
"I was looking forward to sending you to the draft," he said almost wistfully.
"I was looking forward to going. I know I lost a year, but I'm ready to start over. Whatever it takes."
"You did lose a year, huh," he said. "The guys getting picked up by the league for next season? None of those guys did." I nodded gravely.
"I know. I'm confident about building my base back up. I'm still in good shape, strength, cardio… I'm ready to give it everything."
"Are you coming back this semester?"
"Is that what it's going to take?"
"Why are you here, Roman?" he asked me, straight.
"I've wanted to play ball since I was six years old. That didn't change when I was injured, not when I was deployed, not now that I'm on the other side of it. I'm ready, Coach. I'll do the work. I just need an in."
"You come back from a year off, and you really think you, out of all people deserve to land a spot in the league?"
"I know nothing's going to stop me. I'll work as hard as I need to, then harder than that. I know what I'm capable of, Coach."
"I think I do, too. Losing you was unfortunate, son," he said. "You would have had teams fighting to get their contracts in your lap first."
"Still will," I said, determined.
"You would have been as good as signed if you hadn't left. Would be an awful waste to let you go."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I might have a way to help you," he said thoughtfully. "I have a connection, works with a lot of scouts, league owners, and managers; he might have a way to get you into the combine." My heart jumped into my throat.
"When?"
"Your best shot would be the one coming up. That's next month." That was about a week away. I hadn't played in a long time, so it would be risky.
"I'd appreciate that, Coach," I said instead, knowing it was the right thing. When would this come around again?
"I'll make the call and get back to you," he said. I thanked him, grateful for the opportunity. The combine was mostly a fitness test, and I knew I was up to scratch there. In my life, I had probably done more hours of workouts and drills than actual football games. I left Coach Fitz's office with an anxious, excited ache in my stomach.
I climbed into my car and slammed the door shut. What now? I didn't want to go home. I could, it made the most sense, but I felt like that wasn't what I was supposed to do just then. The news was taking a little while to settle. I was happy, but I couldn't believe my luck. I knew for a fact that it didn't usually happen like this.
The pressure was on. If I had this chance, I had to show that it was because I deserved it. I never got nervous about football, but suddenly, I was. I knew I could perform, but I also knew I had to get this right in order get me where I wanted to be by next year, hell, maybe even regular season this year.
I had to tell Ron.
The thought flashed through me like second nature. I had to tell her. I was excited and wanted to tell someone but I didn't just want to tell anyone. We had always shared what was happening in our lives together, but hadn't in a long time. I had stopped telling her things when I got my warning order for my deployment a year ago. That had been the thing that fucked us up – me, keeping my mouth shut when I should have fucking said something. Then when I had chosen to say something, it had been the wrong thing.
I wasn’t making that mistake again. I pulled my phone out and called her. I remembered she was taking summer classes, so there was a chance she was actually on campus.
"Hello?"
"Babe? Hey, where are you right now?"
"Home. Why? Where are you?"
"Can I come over?" I could see her in her apartment, stretched out on her couch reading or at that dining table studying. What was she like as a roommate? I wondered idly. We had never lived together, but I was curious.
She said that I could, she wasn't busy. The drive to her place took no time. Her footsteps on the other side of the door at my knock were audible as she came up and unlocked it. A smile broke across her face when she saw me.
"Hey," she said. Her arms went around my neck and she kissed me. This was normal. This was us, close and familiar; it just hadn't been in a long time so having it again felt sort of like a novelty.
"Hi," I said, as she let me in. "What are you up to?"
"Cooking. I just got a slow cooker, and I wanted to try it out for dinner tonight. Where are you coming from?"
"School," I told her. "I had a meeting today."
"Meeting? Who with?" she asked, sitting on her couch. I followed and sat next to her.
"Coach Fitz." Her brows went up.
"What about?"
"Football. He wanted to know what my next move was, what I wanted."
"That's to go pro, right?"
"Right. I thought if anyone could help, he could. He would know better than anyone what my skill level was, I figured he'd be the best place to start so I could get back into playing."
"Are you going to be playing for the school? How would that work?" I shook my head.
"I'd have to re-enroll for that and get my degree. No, we talked about how I'd probably be drafted by now if I hadn't gone overseas."
"Can it still happen?"
"He actually said he had a contact that could get me into the combine next month."
"Next month? That's so soon. Can you do that?"
"He can," I said shrugging. "Depending on who sees me play, I might end up lucky enough to get scouted."
"That means you're going," she said, as a statement, not a question.
"I want to, yeah. I can't miss out on something like this. The longer I wait, the harder it'll be to get in the league early enough to have a long career."
"How long would you be gone?"
"About a week. What do you think?"
"You don't need my permission to do these things, Rome," she said lightly. Her voice was light, but she looked troubled.
"I still want to know what you think. It's a big decision. I wanted to talk to you first."
"Why? You need to go, of course; you have to."
"The last time I had to leave I didn't tell you," I said. She sighed and looked down, and I immediately felt bad for bringing it up. I just needed her to know that I wasn't keeping things from her anymore.
"This is your future, the one you've always wanted. You'll do great," she said, giving me a small smile. Again, she was encouraging me, but it felt strained.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing," she said. She sounded distant and distracted – it wasn't nothing.
"Ronnie, tell me what's wrong," I urged.
"It's nothing, okay? I didn't expect you to get feedback this fast. I'm a little surprised, that's all. This is good news for you," she said.
Just for me? When we had been together a win for one of us was one for both of us. We were just getting back on track after not being with each other for a while, but I didn't want to feel good about it if Ron wasn't. She was my main focus besides football, and I cared that I was making her feel secure with what was happening.
"It is. I've wanted this for a long time."
"I know you have. This is good. I'm happy for you."
"We should talk about it," I said.
"What do we need to talk about?"
"Something's bothering you, babe."
"It's nothing," she said. She stood up suddenly, walking around the room. I stood and followed her.
"I know you, Ron, something's wrong. I want you to talk to me."
"Really, it's just... It's nothing to do with you. I'll get over it."
"If there's something wrong, I want us to talk about it together. I made this mistake last time, Ron. I won't do it again," I said, coming up to her.
"This is your big thing. I don't want to make it about me," she said, looking down. I cupped her face and tilted it gently up so she looked at me.
"It is about you, babe. If we're together, I'm thinking about both of us. Okay?" She sighed.
"Okay."
"Will you have dinner with me Wednesday? We can talk about it then." She nodded her head weakly. I kissed her, hoping she could feel how serious I was. She deserved more than that from me, and I wasn't chasing her away again.
"All I'm going to ask you for is a chance to prove myself, Ron. That's all I want." Her hands wrapped around me as she buried her face in my chest. I rubbed circles on her back, hoping she wasn't crying. I needed to make sure she wasn't crying because of me, that I didn't do that to her again.
"I'm trying, Rome, but I can't forget," she said. Her voice was muffled and small. I held her face so she would look at me again. She wasn't crying but her face...that look. Fear, uncertainty, hurt, I had done that to her. She was right to be cautious, what normal person wouldn't be?
"It was my fault. Let me make it right. I want to earn your trust back."
"I don't want to regret this," she said.
"You won't," I said firmly, then slowed down. "Please. Let me in."
"Okay," she said finally. I sighed, relieved. I pressed my lips to hers one more time.
"I'll never make you regret trusting me again, Ron. I swear."
"Okay," she repeated, weaker this time. I wished she sounded more confident, but really it was my job to make sure she could, and that was just what I was going to do.