Sweet Rome (Sweet Home 1.5)

I quickly stood and, shocked at his outburst, shouted back, “What the hell? What’s wrong with you? Why’re you reacting like this? This can’t be just about me not wanting to marry Shel. You’re acting crazy. What’s really going on?”

His eyes narrowed and a strange, almost panicked expression flashed across his face. “It is about the marriage! You’re gonna do it, if it’s the last thing you do!”

Running my hands through my hair, I sighed deeply and began backing out of the room. “I’m done. Deal with it. And don’t bother trying to convince me otherwise.”

I opened the door to the lobby, and Mr. Blair, Shelly’s daddy, spotted me. “Rome!” He held his arms wide, smiling his expensive veneered smile. He wasn’t a bad man, just had his priorities messed up: money and social standing first, and they trumped everything else. Shelly clearly had daddy issues, and the way he put most things above her, it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“Hey, Mr. Blair,” I said as he embraced me.

“You here to talk about the wedding? Just think, by this time next year, you’ll be officially family.” My stomach dropped and I stepped back. Mr. Blair lost his smile as he glanced over my shoulder and saw the state of my daddy’s office. “Joe? What the—”

“I’m not marrying your daughter, sir. I don’t want her as my wife and I don’t want anything to do with the company either. I just came down here so my daddy knows I’m serious. Sorry if it causes you any problems, but I just can’t do it.” With that, I left the building.

I’d stood up to my daddy. I’d actually f**king done it. But the determined look in his eyes as I left made me feel nothing but dread for what lay ahead.

* * *

Texas A&M, Kyle Field, College Station, Texas.

“What’s going on, son?” Coach sat before me in the locker room. We’d just finished playing the Aggies, and to say I’d just had a nightmare of a game would be an understatement. Three interception passes… Six sacks… Six f**king sacks!

Sitting head down, still in my dirty uniform, still in my cleats, I shrugged my shoulders. “I can’t focus. Shit! I was terrible! Thank f**k we won or I’d be getting run out of Tuscaloosa!” I threw my head back, running my hands down my face, feeling completely drained.

Coach sighed, moving his chair to sit opposite me. “Rome, I’ve known you nearly four years now, went to some of your high school games before persuading you to join the Tide. This is no time for you to mess up. The world knows you’re certain to be a first-round draft pick.” He grew silent for a moment before he asked, “Is it your folks?”

That surprised me, and I snapped my head back to face him. “What?”

“Look, son, I don’t know much about your home situation. You keep your personal life pretty locked tight. But I know when someone don’t have the support of their folks. I’ve been coaching a hell of a long time, and you’re not the first player to leak his home life onto the field.”

A lump bobbed in my throat, and I checked around me, only to find that the rest of the team was long gone. I stared Coach straight in the face and nodded. “They don’t want me to enter the draft. They want me to take over the family business and marry a chick I don’t want. I had a huge argument with my daddy a few days ago over it all. I can’t stop reliving it.”

“And what do you want, Rome?” Coach gently questioned.

There could be no hesitation. “Football. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“It ain’t my place to tell you what to do, Rome. But I will say this. You are one of the best… if not the best quarterback it has been my honor and privilege to coach. You’re at a crossroads in your young life. Only you can mess up the decisions you must make.” For a few seconds, he left me to ponder what he’d said, then continued. “NFL teams have you on their radar. Everyone expects you to make it at the next level.”

I stared at the dirty white-tiled floor, unseeing, when coach sighed heavily. “Look, what can I say? Try hard to get yourself into a better place. Rome… no matter what it takes… yeah?”

“Yes, sir!” I exclaimed, lifting my head and looking Coach straight in the eye… at the same time silently thanking the Lord that Coach hadn’t threatened to bench me.

Slowly standing up, giving me a fatherly pat on the shoulder, he quietly said, “Get changed. We head out in twenty.”

6

That was two days ago. The team… my team… was now back at practice. After Coach’s talk with me, things felt easier, and I was thankful to be back in Tuscaloosa. Of course, the texts ordering me home to discuss the marriage were constant, but I decided I needed to put some space between my folks and me for a while.

I’d been thinking hard about what coach said and came up with a plan. One, get my head back into football. Two, sharpen my focus on what I do best. Three, try real hard to shut out all the shit screwing with my game—drinking and whoring around being top of the list.

My cousin and I were walking to class, and Ally was talking nonstop about some chick she lived with pissing her the hell off, but I zoned out, a feeling close to excitement in my stomach as we approached the Humanities building. Yeah, that had never happened before, especially not for philosophy, but here I was, almost sprinting to get to the classroom. I wasn’t in denial about why.