He had come to see the color of his skin before he would see his actual self in the mirror because his color was always being brought up by her mother.  As an accommodation to others back home, she said this one time, we'll just call you Joe when you come visit us.  He saw himself slip right into being the one whom they would call Joe, the one who fits, has his place, even in a foreign land.  He could see his accent changing, his handshake getting firmer, his attitude more real.  Joe.  He could reinvent himself and who'd know?  In fact, it is what he thereafter advised foreign students to consider, but, in this moment, he caught the mother's stare that felt to him a little too stern.  Joe?, she finally said, awaiting his acceptance.  His girlfriend quickly took hold of his hand.  It was the name of my favorite uncle, she said.  The tears that then seeped from his eyes came upon the slow recognition that Joe must be her mother's deceased brother, who was, maybe, the mother's favorite, too.