“I don’t know if she likes me, though. Just because she’s staring.”

“She likes you, believe me. You ought to be able to tell something like that by now. You’re old enough.”

The boy returns to the final toe on the old man’s left foot. The little toe, the ugliest one, which is why he always saves it for last. The nail sticks up abruptly like a little shark tooth and he’s never quite sure which angle to approach it from. He’s afraid it might, somehow, leap out and bite him on the hand. The grandfather takes a long delicious pull on his cigarette and allows the smoke to very slowly creep out through his hairy nostrils and the dark corners of his mouth. He stares down at the crown of his grandson’s bright head. He admires the structure of the skull, the perfect arch of the cranium, and inwardly congratulates himself on the boy’s very masculine genealogy. “Of course the women are crazy about him. How could they resist!”

“I was thinking . . . ,” the old man starts, then clears his throat and winces slightly at the final snap of the little silver scissors. “I was thinking it’s been quite some time since we’ve had any women around the place.” The boy finishes his job and blows any remaining clippings off the ancient toes. He stands slowly, folding the knife and returning it to his pocket. His eyes stay focused on the good job he’s done. “I mean, when was it exactly your mother finally pulled up stakes? She was the last to go, wasn’t she? After both your sisters. When was that?”

“I don’t know,” the boy answers, his eyes still fixed on his grandfather’s toes.

“Year or more at least. Had to have been.”

“Maybe. I can’t remember.”

“At least a year. I remember it was hotter than bloody blue Jesus. Mid-August. Must’ve been.”

“Could be.”

“We’d finished raking the almonds. I remember that much. All the Mexicans got paid off. That was a good bunch. Straight up from Sonora.”

“I guess.”

“She’d just finished pulling that dirty trick on your old man. Remember that? Not that he didn’t deserve it.”

“Who, Mom?”

“Yes. Don’t you remember that one? Oh, that was a classic!” The grandfather chuckles and clears his throat again. “That beat the cake! Right after that little flood we had down there in the basement. Rained for five days straight. Remember? River rose so bad they had to close down the old bridge. All your father’s stuff was down there in the basement floating around in two foot of green slime.”

“Oh yeah.”