Will looks up in the mirror as they spin, sees himself straining, his head on her shoulder, as if her back is his torso and his head is set off-center. He looks away from himself quickly. He looks down at the swoops of her robe. Her panting breath now on his neck low at his collar ripples through him stiffening his skin like a brisk breeze and tingle. His ass clenches, pulls up toward his waist. He passes himself in the mirror in three heavy clomps of their slow spin.

What am I more afraid to look at? What I’m repulsed by and afraid of or is it even worse to see myself repulsed and afraid than it is to feel it?

He looks down and away from both his own reflection and her.

‘C’mon Nana.’

‘Okay.’

Blinds are tilted under the curtain in the small window in the shower. The curtain hangs leaving the bottom third of the window visible.

Finally they stand next to the bathtub’s lip sideways. He pulls away from her enough for her to lower her robe, but not so far away as to be able to see her. As she looks down to her robe falling to her feet, he compounds the surprise of the chill on her spread skin, with a single, jerking gesture, lowering her glasses from her nose.