Dawson would come in about an hour after I’d gone to bed, and we’d lay there talking about little things. Things that didn’t really matter and things that I got the feeling he didn’t tell too many people. For example, I found out he used to play football in high school. He was the star player. He was supposed to go to college on scholarship, but he was hurt during practice and lost it all. He also carried a lot on his shoulders. He took care of his family, albeit he didn’t go into detail. He wanted to have kids someday, and he wanted to get married. All of the things he shared with me made me feel like I was special. Like he was particular about the bits and pieces he divulged. I got the feeling he didn’t open up to just anybody. For whatever reason, when he told me something about himself, I listened more intently than if he were Seth, Sydney, or anybody else I’d been close with. I wanted to know things about him. I craved knowledge about his life. On this particular night, we were laying side by side, facing one another.
