After dinner it was time for his grandfather’s weekly bath. Joseph’s mother filled a metal bucket with steaming water and handed Joseph a stiff sea sponge and together they entered the room. The old man was still talking about the cloud as if Joseph had never left.

“The sun arrived and all the colors came out,” he said, as Joseph’s mother lifted him from the bed and placed him on a wicker chair. “After the sun, the earth arrived. The dirt rolled out and quartz and agate and salt came up. Salt was a modest element. It brought out the best in other things. Salt alone is no good though.”

Joseph pulled the sheets off the mattress and rolled them into a bundle, catching glimpses of his grandfather’s chest, tufted with white hairs, and his pelvic bones protruding like carved shelves of stone. The old man pinched Joseph’s cheek, and Joseph politely accepted the pain, hoping his mother recognized the great effort he was making.

Joseph’s mother dipped the sponge into the bucket and ran it over her father’s bony arms, swabbing his shoulders and rib cage. Joseph stretched the fitted sheet over the mattress and smoothed the regular sheet on top of it, tucking in the edges. He caught a glimpse of the old man’s withered nether regions, the copses of tangled hair and shapeless flesh.

“The rainbow is a devilish thing,” the old man said. “You can spend your life trying to catch a rainbow. Don’t get mixed up with the rainbow, Joseph. It only leads you to nothing in the end. The moon is devilish, too. Don’t expect anything from the moon.”

“Okay,” Joseph said.

Joseph’s mother toweled off her father, patting him along the shoulders and along the chest, and together she and Joseph lifted him and tucked him back into bed. They pulled the quilt up around his shoulders and fluffed the pillow behind his thin neck. As soon as the blankets had been pulled under his chin, he fell asleep and began snoring. His mouth dropped open and his arms lay straight along his sides. The furrows on his forehead relaxed and his ears seemed to droop back on his head. Quietly, Joseph and his mother slipped from the room.

Joseph’s mother went to the living room and flipped on the TV, hoping for news of the forest fires.

“Night,” Joseph said.

“Night,” his mother said. “Thanks for the help.”