If this guy was to be believed, then this church was full of people like Grace, people who didn’t try to be something they weren’t, people who didn’t hide behind money or success—or the illusion of it. People who were real, like he’d said. It was hard to believe people would be willing to be like that with each other, because it sounded dangerous. Being real meant not hiding, and so much of my life was spent hiding something—my self from the media, my frustrations with life, my faults and quirks from people who might not like me otherwise. Could I be where I was now if I was totally honest with everyone? It seemed like an awfully risky proposition.

But then I thought about Grace and her friends. She talked about Missy and Joy and Taylor all the time. She didn’t hesitate to call them her family. She told them everything, as far as I could tell, and they in turn did the same with her. I’d never had such close friends. Todd was the closest I had, and there were a thousand things I’d never tell him. Sean wasn’t too bad, but we weren’t real friends, just hang-out friends. I couldn’t imagine discussing spirituality with him. On Mondays that’s all Grace and her friends did: talk about God. As strange as it sounded, it had a certain appeal; at least they recognized that it meant something to them, that it was important. For a while there I’d thought it was important too, but had had no one to talk to about it. Maybe things would have been different if I had had someone.

Maybe now I did.