“Who is this man, do you know him?”

And folk would say, 

“Oh yes, he lives around here and the Tribune did an article on him.”

I realized later that they knew the truth but were keeping it from me.

So I told my lawyer that I just slept with him, maybe, like, a couple of times and knew nothing about him. The Feds were arguing, however, said my lawyer, that I had actually dated him for ten years and that I knew exactly what it was that he did—killing, extortion, and drug trafficking, and that, in fact, I was operating within the core group of mob members. I told my lawyer— I started to speak a bunch of number theory that was similar to, but more mathematical than, the following:

“This is impossible”, I said, “because they are saying I went out with him for ten years and according to them this relationship ended approximately 4 years ago, which would mean I was 26, which would have meant that I began dating him when I was 16 and clearly that is ridiculous because I lived in Lake Forest, went to high school and had braces.”

My mom, who was sitting in the living room, told me, while I dropped the phone to my waist and put my hand over the receiver (this action was clearly due to emotional exhaustion), 

“That for the year that you will be spending in jail, you should be careful to hide your books under your bed because people will steal them otherwise.”

I am also reminded by friends, who are also sitting in the living room that,

“While in jail, you could, at least, have an affair with a woman.” 

I became even more gravely mortified. I raised the phone back up to my ear, releasing my hand from the covered receiver.

“How is this year in jail going to affect my career” 

I was panicking to my lawyer. I did believe, while crying, as I was, that I couldn’t, in any circumstances, go to jail. 

“I am clearly being set up and I do not know why.” 

I wandered out to the street, still on my cell phone, having this argument, plea for help really, with my lawyer, when I was suddenly attacked by one of the mob’s lackeys. He had a rounded but old face and brown thick-rimmed glasses. I woke up. I had a residual sense of panic, feeling that they were all after me, everyone.