The carpet looked old, the paint faded. He had money trees all over the place, and a small personal gong in the living room. People were reclining all over his black leather sofas, which appeared to be evidence of post-college holdover. Debbie stood massaging some man’s shoulders. She had found someone for herself, a boyfriend and an emergency contact. Good for her!

Nathan seemed to be the kind of guy who dabbled in Eastern cultures with abandon. Buddhism books lined his shelves next to Deepak Chopra books and, of course, Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now. Nathan hadn’t struck me immediately as a seeker—he didn’t wear mounds of wooden beads on his wrist or any kind of crystal amulet—and yet here on view in his modest apartment was abundant evidence of his deep spiritual quest, which felt more vulnerable than anything he had shared with our group. He was just an ordinary lost person like the rest of us.

I went to the kitchen to deposit my fruit salad among the other potluck items: seven-layer dip, pasta salad, vegan hot dogs, three types of tortilla chips, and chia pudding. No one was in the kitchen, so I inspected the refrigerator, with its photographs and newspaper clippings and corny magnets. In the center was a photo of Nathan and his daughter. She was a preteen blonde with braces and long legs. I wondered what her mother looked like. I wandered out when I heard Debbie saying she needed to top off her iced tea.

I inspected a poster of a glowing orb radiating from a shadowed body and beneath it read: “Drop the idea of becoming someone because you already are a masterpiece. It cannot be improved. You have only to come to it, to know it, to realize it. —Osho.”

“Fuck off,” I whispered. I could feel someone staring at me. I looked around and saw it was Nathan. Had he heard me? Maybe. I felt like an unwelcome guest. He glanced at me and then went back to talking, but before I could turn around and leave, Bethanny had me by the shoulder.

“Everyone. Everyone!” Bethanny said, smiling, still holding my shoulder.

Nathan clapped his hands twice, and the people in his living room, chatting and eating hummus, settled down.

“Thank you all for coming. And thank you, Nathan, for letting us gather in your beautiful home. I wanted to take a moment and praise us for the work we’ve been doing. The help we’ve given to so many people. It is not nothing. And the sense of community we’ve gained from each other. That matters, too.”

She smiled at me, and I could feel everyone staring at me: singled out by Bethanny in a way they all wished they could be.

“The identity we all share is the loss of still being here when those we love leave us behind.”