Mr Dawson acknowledged awkwardly, "It's not my place to tell you. This is your parents' story and you're their child. I can't interfere in their parenting." He called social services on my family... is that not interfering? I tore my eyes away from the window and stared at him, "No offence, Mr Dawson, but from everything I've heard, it sounds like you've done quite a lot of interfering so far." Mrs Dawson stiffened and I'm sure she didn't like how I was talking to her husband. Mr Dawson didn't say anything, and no one knew where to look anymore. The temperature in the room was really heating up. Mrs Dawson avoided eye contact, Charlotte was staring at her closed phone and only Luke looked his dad in the eye. He was leaning against the wall by the door, close to his father. "You owe it to her," Luke said coldly. And that's when we heard footsteps outside the room and Jake's voice call out, "Hey! I didn't realize everyone was he-" Jake arrived at the doorway, but Luke reached out and slammed the living room door in his face. "Luke!" Mrs Dawson exclaimed, rushing across the room, "Don't do that to your brother!" Luke raised his arms in annoyance, "Does the whole world need to hear Millie's story?" "What the f*ck, man?!" Jake exclaimed as he shoved the door back open. Luke ignored Jake and focused on his dad, "She asked you a question. Now you owe her an answer." Mrs Dawson whispered quietly to Jake, trying to explain the situation a little more. His anger dissipated a bit and I felt him look at me. I wish this conversation could take place in a quieter and more private environment. I didn't feel comfortable with Jake, Charlotte and Mrs Dawson all listening in. I was embarrassed by this. But I suppose not embarrassed enough to be silenced. I needed to know. Mr Dawson said, "Like I said, I don't want to step out of line here. It's not my place to talk about something I don't know." I stared down at my feet and shook my head, feeling the helplessness return. I should've expected that the truth doesn't come out easily. You can't just go up to someone and get them to unveil a mystery. Some people will stay silent and take secrets to the grave. I've gotten so used to movies tying up the plot neatly in the end. Maybe life is a mess... with loose ends and no closure. Why would he confess anything to me? Why was he involved with my family in the first place? Did Mr Dawson threaten my mom? Did he try something with her? Am I adopted? These questions were never going to end unless he told me. I needed to hear his side of the story, because his was the only story available. Everyone else is gone. I'll refuse to leave the room until he spoke, because I may never have a chance like this again. I glanced up at Luke and realized that he was staring at me. It's like he felt my pain. And when our eyes met, it sparked a reaction in him. He was willing to force the truth out. Luke was about to confront his dad, when his sister took us all by surprise. "Dad," Charlotte spoke up from beside me, "If someone we know is hurting and we're in a position to help them, we should. Isn't that what you've always taught us to do?" Mr Dawson looked at his daughter with a softer expression. He now had to consider the moral example he would be setting. I was never going to be the person who would get sympathy from Mr Dawson, but his kids would. His kids were his life. He may be harsh and strict sometimes, but he seemed like a father who really cared. "I am not asking for the definitive truth," I whispered, "I am just asking about what you saw or did or heard." He continued to stare at his children, while his mind thought through his next step. I desperately wanted to shake him: What did you do? "Fine," Mr Dawson finally said, "It looks like I'm overruled." My heart thumped in my chest and that feeling of sickness return. The promise of the truth, of the past... I didn't want to think back to the days my father was around... but I needed to get through this. "I hope your dad won't kill me for saying this," Mr Dawson mentioned story. He cleared his throat and as soon as he started to speak about my dad, it brought me back to that time – when I was a little girl and before I knew what abandonment felt like. "Your dad was a genius," Mr Dawson said, "And he loved you. You know, we were just neighbors, but I could see that much. It's normal. I think things started to change when he lost his job. I remember him telling me that it was hard to find a new one, and he was unemployed. He used to be so energetic and ambitious, but over time that faded." I tried not to cry. I had no idea my father lost his job, but I remember enjoying when he had more free time and started doing the school run. It struck a chord in me that my feeling of happiness was connected to his feeling of sadness. What do I owe a man who walked out of my life? Mr Dawson continued to tell the story, or at least his version of it. "A man is responsible for taking care of his family and he had two small kids... that must've been an incredibly difficult time," Mr Dawson paused after that and looked like he didn't want to continue. "I really don't want to be telling you all of this. This next part is heavy." He looked down and I could see that he was really struggling to get the words out. I guess he actually must have thought of my dad as a friend. He breathed out, "I don't think you knew this, but he was an alcoholic." I never knew that. I knew my mom struggled with alcohol addiction. My dad too? I've seen how alcoholism can disrupt a family life. I've lived through it, but not with my dad. Mr Dawson took a few minutes before he continued. No one told him to hurry. We were all deadly silent and I couldn't think about anyone else in the room. I just felt pity. My parents had not been lucky in their lives. Finally, Mr Dawson broke the painful silence again, "Your dad and I weren't close friends, but we were neighbors, so we'd shoot the sh*t sometimes. I remember one of the last conversations we had before he left." I stared up at Mr Dawson and for the first time, he looked back at me. He actually gave me eye contact. Mr Dawson said, "He didn't feel worthy. He thought he was ruining your lives and he was worried that his habits were dragging your mom down a similar path. He said that, in his dark moments, he encouraged her to drink and he was worried that she would spiral into alcoholism too. I remember his harrowing words. He said if he stayed, you'd lose two parents instead of one." Too little, too late. In the end, I did lose two parents. My mom was never herself after he left. I wanted to know what happened to him. He'd lost his way. Was he ok? Mr Dawson said, "He gave up on hope. He thought he would do more harm than good by staying in your lives. Fear can be a terrible thing. Fear can make you run away, and embarrassment can make you stay away." What a heavy blow. I didn't know what to say or how to process my thoughts. I couldn't help but think one thing: Coward. He'd chosen to run away instead of face his fears. Isn't that the definition of cowardice? His feelings of disillusion and inadequacy led to him walking away. This was not the story I expected. There was no dramatic moment or outburst or betrayal... just a slow burn. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. He was a guy that lost his way. In the movies, there always seems to be a dramatic reason that leads to the big decision. But maybe in life, it's more of a gradual decline. Many small pieces that build up over time. It's so much harder to understand. So many questions left to answer. And I wasn't going to leave this room until I got all those answers.