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He was not certain what they were, but he felt convinced that the answers lay in the dark shadows of the auditorium.

Finally, everyone had cleared out and he left the dressing room for the theater itself. As he entered through the lobby doors, he saw no one, not even Sam. There were no lights other than the green, glowing letters of the exit lights, and as he moved down the aisle, he had the sensation of entering an abandoned cathedral. The darkness seemed to crowd about him like a thick fog, and he began to feel strangely light-headed. As he drew himself deeper into the vast sea of empty seats, he could see the dim outlines of the set beyond the open act curtain—a modern suburban home in El Cajon, California.

Then slowly, the stage lights crackled as they gathered heat and bathed the stage in light and life. The shapes which took form and color were again the props of a tortured childhood.

The shabby living room, the kitchenette, worn carpets and dingy curtains.

The door at stage center opened and his mother entered, wearing a simple, tailored suit. Her hair was silvering and had been puffed by a beauty shop. She appeared elegant in a simply stated manner. He had never remembered his mother looking like that. She looked about the room as though expecting someone to be home.

MOTHER

Dominic, where are you? Dominic?

Oh, there you are. Dominic, come up here! Come to me. …

She appeared perplexed as she closed the door, calling his name again. Then turning towards the footlights, she looked beyond them to where he stood transfixed.

The recognition startled him, but he felt himself responding as though wrapped in the web of a dream. There was an unreality about the moment, a sensation which prompted him to question nothing, to merely react.

And he did.

Climbing up and onto the stage as the heat of the lights warmed him, he felt as though he was passing through a barrier.

It was that magic which every actor feels when the curtain rises and he steps forth, but it was also very different this time. …

DOMINIC

Where’s Dad? He wasn’t there, was he?

MOTHER

(looking away)

No, Dominic … I’m sorry. I don’t know where he is. He never came home from work.

But, Dominic, it was wonderfull So beautiful a play, I never seen! And you were wonderful! I am so proud of you, my son!

She paused to straighten a doily on the arm of the sofa, then turned back to him.

Dominic smiled and walked over to her and hugged her. It was the first time he could remember doing such a thing in a long, long time. Overt affection in his home had been a rarity, something shunned and almost feared.

DOMINIC

Thanks, Mom.

MOTHER

I always knew you were a good boy. I always knew you would make me proud someday.

DOMINIC

Did you?

Then why didn’t you ever tell me when I was a kid? Back when I really needed it.

He pulled away from her, looked at her intently.

His mother turned away, stared into the sink.

MOTHER

You wouldn’t understand, Dominic. You don’t know how many times I wanted to say something, but…

DOMINIC

But it was him, wasn’t it? Christ, Mom, were you that much afraid of him that you could Just stand by and watch him destroy your only son?

MOTHER

Don’t talk like that, Dominic. I prayed for you, Dominic … I prayed into the night that you would be stronger than me, that you would stand up to him. I did what I could, Dominic. …

DOMINIC

I think I needed more than prayers, Mom … but that’s okay. I understand. I’m sorry I jumped on you like that.

Then came the sound of a key fumbling in a lock. The click of the doorknob sounded loud and ominous. The door swung open slowly to reveal his father, obviously drunk, leaning against the threshold. Joseph Kazan shambled onto the set, seemingly unaware of anyone else’s presence. He collapsed in his usual chair and stared out into empty space.

DOMINIC

Where have you been?

His father looked at him with a hardness, unaffected by