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We started down the stairs.

"Your mother called to see how you were, but you hadn't arrived yet. I'm to give you her sympathies and best wishes because she was on her way to a political ball. Your friend Audrey called to see how you were, too. There were a few other calls from students. I left the list in my office. I'll give it to you after dinner. I've done nothing but man the phones on your behalf," she added.

"Thank you," I said hiding a small smile.

"I don't know why I told her to make those pork chops. They really don't agree with me," she continued as we rounded the stairway and headed toward the dining room.

"Maybe Sissy can make you something else," I suggested.

"Of course not. What do you think this is, a restaurant? I swear, all you young people today are so spoiled?'

She took her seat at the table and I took mine. Sissy served the meal and it was as delicious as ever. Grandmother Hudson was right. I hadn't realized how hungry I was. Nevertheless, I felt guilty eating, guilty enjoying. How long does the sadness last? I wondered.

Grandmother Hudson saw how melancholy I was. I had made little conversation. Toward the end of the meal, she put her silverware aside, and her elbows on the table as she clasped her hands and turned to me.

"I never met the woman you called Mama, of course, but from what I have learned and from what I have seen, she made remarkable sacrifices for you. She would want you to take advantage of every opportunity you were offered. That's all I will say on the subject," she declared, then took the napkin off her lap, placed it on the table, rose and left the room.

I sat for a few moments listening to my own heartbeat. Then I started to help Sissy clear the table.

"Oh you don't have to do that, honey," she said.

"I want to, Sissy," I insisted.

After the table was cleared, I went outside and sat on a bench. It was a night of blazing stars, but no moon. I heard an owl way off in the darkness of the woods. It sounded so mournful.

Was Mama with Beni somewhere now? Were the two of them looking down at me and waiting?

I looked up at the mansion with its magnificent stone columns. Could this ever be home to me?

Where is home? Home has to be someplace in your heart, too. Could I ever be a part of this world, really a part of it? Or should I have told Roy to come and get me as soon as he could? At least with him, I would never be afraid.

Or would I be afraid of the worst thing of all.., never knowing who I really was.

I want my name, Mama, I whispered. I want my Mama.

As if I was still on stage, I imagined the audience's applause. It was loud and overwhelming and somehow, if I pretended this was just a terribly emotional scene I was acting in, maybe I could pretend my pain wasn't real.

Actors are always being someone they are not, and that was what I have been, I thought. They move through personalities and characters like someone without a face, searching for the right identity, waiting for that applause and wondering if the applause was for them or for someone they imagined themselves to be.

Who am I?

The answer was out there waiting to be discovered. I would do what Grandmother Hudson said I should do: I would take advantage of every opportunity and open every door until one day, I looked at the truth.

Then, I could come home.