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Then Mason spoke up again, his voice slightly muffled. “So Mom, is Uncle Dante your friend?” he asked curiously. I should have known Mason wouldn't drop this issue so easily. I hesitated, unsure of how honestly to respond. The last thing Dante was to me was a friend but at the same time, I didn't want to paint Dante in a bad light to Mason. He was still his father after all. “He's… an acquaintance,” I said finally. Mason shifted on my lap. “What's that?” He asked. “An acquaintance is someone you know that isn't your friend.” But even as I spoke, I silently questioned my own words. In the time we had spent together, I had never really known Dante, could I even call him an acquaintance? “Why isn't he your friend?” Mason asked and I couldn't respond. There was no way to tell my son
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