Written by Robyn, Co-Authored by Marc
Last Sunday night, Marc and I were peacefully watching a nature documentary in our living room together when there was a knock on the door. As it was nearly 9:00, we weren't expecting anyone, and I was not fully dressed (being pregnant in July is not conducive for wearing unnecessary layers of clothing), Marc rose to answer the door. From my position in the beanbag chair, I had a perfect view of the front door and the woman on the other side of it as Marc opened the door. She was probably in her early twenties, was wearing a very short skirt, and had multiple tattoos and piercings.
"Hi, I'm Clover," the woman said rather bouncily, and she started to walk into our house. In confusion, Marc at first started to politely stand aside for her, but then he realized something was off and put his hand up to block her entry. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" he said.
"Oh, I'm the companion you called," she replied. Marc flushed a moderate shade of red. "There must be some mistake - I didn't call a companion," he told her. "Isn't this 69....?" she said, reading an address off her phone. "Well yes, but I can assure you that we never called for a companion." And without another word she immediately got on her cell phone to her boss and walked away, explaining as she went that the client at our address said he had never called for someone.
Marc closed the door and came back to the living room with a look of utter bewilderment on his face. "I thought that was illegal in Utah!" he exclaimed, and I admit I could no longer contain my laughter. I educated Marc on the "companion" underworld in Utah (I have some experience with this as I used to work next to a "massage and tattoo parlor" with a fascinating night life), and we both had a good laugh about the whole experience.
We finally settled back in to continue watching our documentary about birds when again there came a knock at the door. Marc and I exchanged glances (his was rather wary, mine more of an anticipating grin), and he again went to answer the door.
This time, the young woman at the door was more modestly dressed, but with exceptionally long hair and decked out with what had to be at least a pound's worth of jewelry. "Hi, I'm Summer!" she exclaimed. "Do I know you?" Marc responded. She looked at him in confusion. "I'm Summer," she again stated, as though that should be her passcode for Marc to let her in. "Who are you here to see?" Marc asked. "I don't know ... but I'm Summer," she responded. "I think someone is pulling a practical joke on me because I didn't call anyone, but you're the second person who has stopped by tonight," Marc said. The girl simply looked at him in confusion. "I'm Summer," she again responded.
To his credit, Marc had handled the first situation quite gracefully, and he had done pretty well this time as well, but at this point his composure started to falter, unsure of how to respond to this girl who simply kept repeating, "I'm Summer" and making no move to leave until he had let her in. Finally, Marc blurted, "There's another family living downstairs ... maybe you're here to see them. Their door is around the side of the house." "Oh!" the girl happily exclaimed, and walked away in obvious relief.
The instant the door was closed, Marc turned around, looking very, very flushed. "Marc!" I exclaimed, "You sent her to my cousins??" (My cousin and her husband rent the downstairs from us). "I didn't know what else to do! She wouldn't leave!" he said, looking very guilty. "I should warn them!" he said, and flew down the stairs and started pounding frantically on the door to the basement. Finally, my cousin answered and Marc attempted to explain that they were going to get a visitor at their door, and that he had accidentally sent her to them. Marc was still a bit flustered though, and unable to find the right words to communicate the situation, and my cousin was very confused as to who this visitor was they would be getting, so finally I yelled down, "Marc accidentally sent a hooker to your door." "Oh!" she responded. "Sorry. I got nervous," Marc said. However, a knock on their door never came ... so the three of us assumed Summer had decided not to pursue it after all and had simply left.
Unbeknownst to us, my cousin's husband had been outside, enjoying the evening on their back steps and Summer had walked right into him. "There you are! You didn't tell me you lived downstairs!" she told him. "Um ... yes, I do," he responded, confused. "I recognize your voice. I'm Summer," she happily told him. "Hi Summer, I'm Devin," he cordially, but confusedly, responded, shaking her hand. "So ... who are you here to see?" "I don't know," she said, giving him an odd look, "But I'm Summer." "Summer ... what's your last name?" Devin attempted. "I'm not going to tell you that!" she responded.
After a few more minutes of awkward exchange, poor Summer eventually realized that she was most certainly at the wrong house, and she left. The four of us had a good laugh together about our evening's adventures. I only wish now that we knew how on earth two "companions" ended up at our door. If it was indeed a practical joke, then I would like to personally thank whoever did it - they gave me hours of entertainment, anytime I think of the experience.
