Waiting

Marla is sitting at the kitchen table

giving a crossword puzzle evils,

a lidded biro between her fingers.

I rap on the woodwork so she won’t be startled.

I’m back, I say,

as casually as I can,

hoping she’ll remember me as Toffee

not the counterfeit cleaner

so I can stay.

Oh, she murmurs, without excitement.

I need help with six across.

Abode: four letters.

I fiddle with my sleeve,

pull it over my fingers.

Home, I whisper.

She counts the tiny boxes.

You’re home.

Yes. Home. OK.