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container. It tried to find something to grip on to in its new world of transparent boundaries, but it slid down the glass. I put a pencil in the jar so the insect had somewhere to perch. It thanked me with a cold green flicker. There’s no creature more amazing than one that can make its own light.

6
    Naked, wearing only a towel around my waist, I went into the bathroom. It was a big room with tiles on the floor. They were on the walls, too, but just halfway up. Above that, it was just concrete.
    I found my sister sitting on the edge of the bath in her underwear, her legs inside. The water bubbled as it filled the tub. In the basement it didn’t get hot enough to make steam.
    My sister undid her bra. She let it fall onto the pile of clothes on the floor. She stood up, pulled down her underpants, and took them off one foot at a time. She got them wet with the water that slid off her toes. I discovered yellow areas on her skin, bruises about to disappear, the ones she got hitting the table the day the baby was born.
    From my position at the door, I could see the water level rising. It almost reached my sister’s knees. The smell of soap filled the room.
    She turned the water off.
    Her hand spread over the mask. With the other she stretched the black rubber strap that ran across the back of her head. “I’m here,” I said.
    She lifted her shoulders. “Have you finished on the bike?”
    “Yeah.”
    We all had to go on the bike three times a week. Dad had positioned it in a corner of the living room, near the calendar. It was blue and white. It never moved, no matter how much you pedaled. When it was my turn to go on it, I’d ask Mom to put a movie on the TV so I could imagine that I was cycling through the landscapes on the screen.
    My sister tilted her head without letting go of the mask. The tip of an ear emerged from her black hair. “How long have you been standing there?” she asked.
    “I just arrived,” I lied. “It’s Mom’s turn now.”
    “Are you going to take a bath?”
    “Do you mind?”
    My sister sighed, letting her shoulders drop. She let go of the strap on the mask so that it tightened against her head. Then she pushed off, her hands to the side of each hip, to submerge herself in the water. She hiccupped when her chest went under. Once in, she tipped her head back to wet her hair. She ended up sitting at one end of the bathtub, her head resting against the wall.
    “Come on,” she said. “You can get in.”
    I closed the bathroom door, left my towel on the sink, and got in the water at the opposite end from my sister. I sat with my legs slotted between hers, which were open and bent. I bent mine, too, so I wouldn’t touch anything with my feet.
    “Smart-ass, you’ve left me the end with the plug,” I said.
    My sister laughed behind her mask. It was strange to hear her laugh. She passed me the shampoo so I could wash my hair. After using it, I gave it back.
    “What are you going to do?” I asked.
    “The same as you. Wash my hair,” she answered. “And my face.”
    “OK,” I said. I closed my eyes tight and added, “Ready.”
    My sister clicked her tongue. I heard her stretch the strap as she took off the mask, and the bottle spitting soap out onto her hands, then the sound of her rubbing the shampoo into her hair, and the water splashing her face.
    “Done?” I asked after a while. She didn’t answer. “Done?” I said again.
    After a few seconds’ silence, she answered, “Do you really not dare look?”
    I covered my eyes with both hands. The bubbles in the bath crackled, floating on the water or sticking to my body. I shook my head.
    “Come on,” she said. “Think how Mom and Dad’s faces are. Mine can’t be much worse.”
    “You don’t have a nose,” I replied. “I don’t want to see your hole.”
    She grabbed one of my wrists.
    “Look at me,” she said. “I know you want to.” She took my other wrist as well. A tide was set off in the bathwater with our