Camp of the Lost

Story Sent in by Nick:

One summer in my early 20s, Rachel contacted me off of a dating site, saying that I looked familiar. She listed several places from which we might have known each other, but aside from living in the same city, nothing else she mentioned was familiar. Based on her initial message, though, we struck up a conversation, one that finally led to a date.

I took her out to dinner, where we had a nice experience, although she seemed to have decided that I had attended her local summer camp, Camp Buchanan, which I never, ever had.

"I've got a great idea!" she said as dinner was coming to a close, "After dinner, let's go there! To Camp Buchanan! We can park our cars on a nearby street and sneak onto the property."

I liked the idea, and so we did it. It was a nice place, from what I could tell in the dark. There were abundant trees, little ranch buildings, and big fields.

She led me to a swing set not too far from a collection of swimming pools.

While we were on the swings, she turned to me and said with a smile, "By the way: I've figured out where I know you from."

"Where?" I was eager to find out.

She said, "Here! Camp Buchanan! We were campers and friends together, over 10 years ago."

I replied, "I said before: I've never been here. Sorry."

She said, "We were campers here. Try to remember."

"I swear to God, I've never set foot in this place."

"The annual dance was held here for the first time when we were campers. It was so awkward! Remember?"

"I've never been here. Really."

"That's the first time I remember seeing you."

I sighed. "Rachel, this is my first time here. I've never been here before, ever. I spent my summers at a camp in North Carolina."

She said, "I imagined what my kids with someone else would look like for the first time with you as the father. It was you."

"It wasn't."

She stared at me, her eyes wider than I had ever seen them. "It was. You... were... here."

"I wasn't. I'm sorry."

She jumped off the swing and said, "If you're not going to play him, then I want to be alone. Have a good night... and life, okay?"

I stopped swinging. "What?"

She said, "If you're not even going to help me, then we're calling it a night, and I... can't see you again. Okay?"

"Uh... sure. Okay."

"Are you sure? Last chance to... play the lost."

I stood up off the swing. "I'm sure, but we can still have a nice night, can't we? We can—"

"I'll be safer this way!" she said, then skipped off, toward the swimming pools, and into the night. I didn't follow her, and I returned to my car and drove back home.

As she had promised, I didn't hear from her again.