Ren’s excitement was palpable. He needed this trip, and as he’d made clear over a mojito-infused forty-five-minute video message last night, he needed something refreshing after his divorce. I didn’t have much in the way of exes to speak of—like I told Marley last night, dating was Future Jamie’s problem—but I could see the allure of a fresh start.
“Oh, here’s a part I think you’ll love. The rules.”
He couldn’t see my eye roll, but it was there all the same. “Ha ha.”
“No, really, check it out. First off, ‘This is a vacation. You will not be splitting chores or cooking in the mess. Do this for you.’ ‘Safety is of the utmost importance.’ Blah blah blah. There’s an open bar, bonfire, crafts. ‘Enjoy time connecting with nature, new friends, and yourself here at Camp Starlight.’”
My lips had curled into a smile at Ren’s dramatized reading of the brochure. Now I knew a little more of what to expect. This was so far from my normal, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“Oh, they have sunrise yoga,” he continued. “You love being up before sunrise. So do I, if going to bed after midnight constitutes ‘before sunrise.’”
Marley’s words echoed through my chest, and I knew she was right. This was going to be good. A real vacation.
The highway opened up the farther we pulled away from the noise of the city and into the solace of Mount Hood. A wave of peace settled over me. Hillsides that had playfully dipped soon became a dramatic cliffside. The road weaved and curved, showing views of valleys below, dotted with clusters of wildflowers. Lupines and trilliums I could pick out, but there were so many others I’d never seen before.
Ren put the brochure back into his backpack and turned up the music. Together we belted out 2000s pop song after song with all the passion we had. Time passed easily on the highway, and my dependence on the GPS allowed me time to converse and goof off. It was only after we exited and drove down country roads that nerves crept back in. Soon, friendly signs guided us as well.
This way to Camp Starlight.
Ihadnoideawhat I was getting into.
The parking lot was a madhouse. When we finally found a spot, Ren directed me to go check us in, and he would grab the bags.
“Hi. You’re James, right?” A cheery-faced brunette in a blue jumpsuit approached me next to a welcome sign, where people were posing for photos. Her hair was in a ponytail, and her mirrored aviator sunglasses were shiny enough to reflect meand everything around me in their glare. She reminded me of a short pilot straight out of a fashionable flight school. “If you’re wondering how I know that, I’m psychic.” Her eyes were narrowed, and no trace of a smile could be detected.
“That’s… Great.” I tried to sound enthused.
“She knows you don’t mean that.” A tall man with square glasses and messy hair sticking up in every direction grinned over his contribution, which was said with false seriousness. Who were these people?
“Because she’s psychic?” I asked, omitting as much dryness from my tone as I could manage.
“You are? Since when?” He smiled at her with a slight twinkle in his eye. “She just knows all. There’s a difference.” He extended his hand, and we shook. “I’m Leo, this is Hazel, and you are… James, right?” How did everyone know my damn name? “We saw your profile packet,” he answered without my asking. “You know, the questionnaire you answered to be here? Yours was pretty memorable. You gave us a photo of you mid-crescendo belting into a microphone, if I remember correctly.”
Now things were lining up.
Of course he’d picked that damn photo, the only embarrassing image of me that he could have given them. Was I ever going to live down last year’s holiday party?
“I didn’t actually submit anything. My friend Ren did. He’s here now if you want to rip into him about consent forms.” I looked for him behind me, but surprise, he was nowhere to be found.
“That’s why we have a lake. We’ll throw him in first chance we get,” Hazel deadpanned. “We should get you to sign your own forms before we take you to your cabin though. Then the lake.”
“Come with me.” Leo jubilantly offered his elbow. “We’ll take care of everything. NDA, DNA, DNR—”
“I swear, if Ren signed anotherdo not resuscitateorder for me,” I joked.
Leo smiled a mile wide. He gave off no signs of annoyance over this issue, though the pessimistic side of me wondered if this discrepancy could lead to me getting kicked out of the camp at the start. Maybe Ren was right if this was where my mind went to at the first sign of trouble. I really did need a vacation.
A three-minute walk had me in the camp office, which turned out to be four desks in a portable building with images of fun times everywhere. I looked at bulletin boards covered in photos of smiling faces, woven friendship bracelets, and what looked like random crafts. I’d never been to summer camp before, but the little kid in me felt like bouncing in my chair. The grown-ass adult, however, kept the bouncing to the absolute minimum.
Leo twiddled his thumbs as he twisted in his desk chair, patiently waiting for me to read over everything. There was a standard liability waiver and photo release, nothing out of left field. I wasn’t signing away my kidneys, and it said nothing about giving up my life savings or being forced to participate in any prayer circles or ritual sacrifices.
Ren was a stellar planner when it came to work, but he was a little more impulsive when it came to personal decisions. So when I’d told him it was okay for him to take me to the woods, the slim chance that he was accidentally taking me to join a cult somewhere may have crossed my mind. I didn’t do my due diligence like I normally would. That was how desperate I was for some space from the office once it was offered.
“So, you’re a lawyer?”
“I am,” I answered, not looking up from the liability waiver. “I specialize in corporate law out of Seattle.” I glanced at the bulletin board behind him. “Do people come here so much that they develop relationships with your staff?” It was none of mybusiness, but the wall of invitations behind him was slightly confusing given the short duration of a typical camper’s stay.
He looked over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t say I getthatmuch time with campers, but there are some lasting impressions. Some people keep in touch, and many return for a session the next year. The invites are for weddings from campers who… Connected with each other during a session.”
