Her father had decided to stay in the apartment when the fire alarm went off. If it was his time to die, he claimed, then that was perfectly fine with him. Burning didn’t seem to bad since he was going to burn in hell anyways. Plus his favorite show was on, The Bachelor.

Margret never understood his attraction to the show. Of course, it was her mother who dragged him into watching it. Once a week her mother would switch from the news to the Bachelor, even with her father’s loud and rude protests. But it grew on the man. Eventually, he joined his wife on the couch. At first he complained about the sappiness and cheesiness. But then he became silent and began to really watch the show. And eventually he couldn’t fight it. Every week, Margret’s mother and father sat together watching the reality show.

Of course he loved watching a bunch of pretty girls strut around in bathing suits and skimpy dresses. But mostly he seemed to enjoy shouting snide comments. He would exclaim, “Why doesn’t he just be a Mormon,” or “Just follow the script, lady! Say how much you love him.” Anything the man could insult was a joy.

When Margret returned to the apartment her father sat laughing deeply at a girl crying desperately in the limo. Margret never noticed how ugly girls are when they cry.
Her father glanced at Margret quickly and returned to his T.V. watching. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks. It was a false alarm.”

“Well of course. I’m not dead.”

Margret began to put away the groceries left on the counter. She removed the cereal and frozen foods from the plastic bags. She glanced at her father. She couldn’t help feel a small bubble of anger. He was fat and old. He spread across the torn couch like a king, stuffing her last bit of wheat thins into his face. Well, she thought, she would be living with the man for a while. She at least had to try.

“I got in an argument with this guy because he keep pushing me on the way into the building. I think his name was Fish or Fosh or something. Just a big jerk.”

“hm.” Her father continued to stare at the screen in the corner. Margret placed some French fries and pizzas into the freezer.

“I tried to find work again. Went to Lu’s garage but they didn’t need anybody.”

“hm.” He tried to through the empty box of wheat thins into the trashcan but fell two feet short. He made no effort to fix the problem. Margret tried not to stomp her way over to pick up the box and place it into the trash.

“Ohm. I met a girl Sidda who lives some apartments above us when we were waiting for the fireman. She seemed nice but we didn’t talk very long. I think Mazurka might have freaked her out a little.” Her father didn’t make a reply. He continued gazing at the mascara streaked, red face girl on the screen. “I went to the pub. They didn’t have work. But there was a really tipsy woman, Magdalene…” The man wasn’t listening. She was sure he had no interest what so ever about the day’s events. Though Margret knew exactly what to say to set him off and felt the urge just to put the man in his place, she keep her mouth shut. As much as she would love to tell him off, she thought better of the situation.

For the first time in her life, she could kick him out. He could sleep on the sidewalk like she did in her younger years. Suddenly she had the power. She didn’t have to use language and wit to win a fight. She just would say, “get out” and that was it. So she decided against a battle of insults.

She finished with the groceries and bent down to Mazurka’s level. He had not left her side since they left the building during the fire alarm. He did not like being left with her father while she went job searching. She peered into the dog’s eyes. “its going to be a long couple weeks with him around.” She whispered. She rested her face against the dog’s chest and allowed her mind to wonder. She thought of her past and how much she missed her home. “John! Mazurka, I have to speak to John! He called me yesterday. I’ve been writing him the past two months but he finally called me.” Margret glanced once more at the pig of a man now laughing hysterically at the Bachelor tearing up. She grinned, “John could help me out I think.”

Margret sat in complete darkness. It seemed the black out was just what she needed to top off a horrible day. She had been around the whole city, going from business to business, looking for work but every place turned her down. She had been to the bookstore and turned down by the blind man. An Asian lady at a little shop turned her down. She had been to the pub, diner, salon, church, coffee shop, and almost every business on her block but they all shook their heads at her request for work. She considered asking the Royal but Greta seemed disturbed after her encounter. She traveled by bus into the nicer parts of the city but nobody was hiring.

So she had to return to her small empty apartment. There was nothing in the room except a bed and suitcase that contained all of her belongings. While sitting on the bed she wondered if she could pay rent a little late. And now here she was in a black out.
Then the phone rang.

“Dad,”

“Margret,” he responded shortly.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Listen, I have to move in by next week.”

“What! Next week! Dad, no! I just got fired for too many sick days and I have…”

“And you think I want to move into your stink hole town and that piece of crap apartment. And with your amount of success, ha. Don’t think I want to come live with you.”

“Now wait a minute. You told me John…”

“What about John? Huh? He’s not about to let me near his house. Trust me, his place and company is ten times yours. I’m going to be in by next week and you had better be ready.”

“You told me at least a month and there is no way I will have you coming over and screwing everything up. I need time to get everything together for your impossible standards.”

“Well, it won’t be a month so get ready.”

Margret was livid with anger when the old man hung up. It wasn’t an uncommon sight, her fights with her father. They had never really gotten along well. But this time there was going to be action. She couldn’t imagine living with her new roommate.

She stood and opened the curtains to her window, trying to let in some sort of light. On the street she could see Felix’s shadow glide on the sidewalk and into his tunnel. She needed to let off steam.

“Lets go, Mazurka.” The large dog grumbled and walked through the open door. Margret slammed it behind her.