“So, you don’t even know for sure—you’re just guessing. You think just because my dad is friends with Sal and because we’re Italian, we’re in the mafia? That’s just crazy!” “You think what I’ve done is bad, your father is ten times worse. If you don’t believe me, ask him. You think I’m full of s**t, fine, but go talk to Daddy and see for yourself.” His insistence was absolute. He was wholly confident he was right, and his resolve shook me. What if he was telling the truth? I suddenly felt like I’d walked into the movie Inception where the constructs of our reality no longer applied—as if at any moment, the walls of the room might turn, and I’d be walking on the ceiling rather than the floor. Could my father be a mafia boss? Had my entire world been a thing of fiction? The possibility was m
