I wash her breasts.
I do it the way I like. Slow and tender so I can watch her at every point. So she feels worshipped, because she is. The cloth, across the top of the breast, under, around. I pass over each nipple once. I feel each nipple come up. I do not pinch. I do not linger. I watch her face and her mouth opens a little more and a small sound comes out and I pass the cloth over again, thesame way, slow, and her back arches against the porcelain just a quarter inch, and I bring the cloth back to her sternum.
"Okay," she says. Breath.
"Okay."
"Keep going."
"I'm keeping going."
I wash down her ribs. I come to her hip. I wash the hip. I wash the inside of her thigh, top third only, cloth, slow. I do not go further up yet. I feel the heat come off her skin the nearer I come. I take the cloth back to the water. I rewet it.
"Turn for me," I say.
"Okay."
She sits up in the tub. The water runs off her shoulders. I take the cloth to her back. I go from the nape of her neck down the line of her spine to the dimple at the base. I do this slow. I do it twice.
"I have a scar on my back," she says. "Between the shoulder blades. Not big. I fell when I was nine."
"I feel it. I'm on it."
"Okay."
I trace the shape of it with the cloth. It is a small raised star, an inch across. I feel it under the cotton. I wash it. I go past it.
"Thank you for telling me where it was."
"I didn't want you to come on it by accident."
"I wouldn't have come on it by accident."
"I know. But still."
"Still."
I wash down to the small of her back. I come back up. I bring the cloth over the front of her shoulder and I trace her collarbone again. She leans back.
I wash her leg.
I lift her foot out of the water. I rest the heel in my palm. I wash the instep. I wash the ankle. I wash the calf. I wash the backof the knee. I wash up the outside of the thigh. I do not go to the inside.
I set the foot back in the water.
I lift the other foot. I do the same. Same route. Same slowness. Her bandaged hand is draped over the side of the tub. I bring the cloth to the inside of her wrist, above the bandage. I wash the inside of her wrist. I wash the crook of her arm. I come up the underside of her upper arm to the armpit and I wash the armpit.
I set her arm back in the water.
I take the cloth to her face.
She opens her eyes when I do. I go slow. I wash her forehead, her temples, each cheek, under her jaw, around her mouth, the small stitch of scar at the corner of her lower lip. I do not touch her lip. I touch everything around her lip. Her eyes stay on mine.
I take the cloth down to the water and I lay it on the rim.
I sit back on my heels.
"That's the bath," I say.
