Free Only Son by Kevin O'Brien

wristwatch: 4:40. Must have fallen asleep after all.
    The doorbell rang again. “Just a minute!” he called, almost tripping as he stepped into his pants. He grabbed his shirt—draped over the railing of the baby’s crib—put it on and fumbled at a couple of buttons in the front. Staggering to the door, he checked the peephole.
    It was Eve.
    What the hell does she want? he wondered. It had been over three months since he’d even spoken to her. All communications were now handled through their attorneys.
    Damn . Their first meeting after the divorce: she should find him looking terrific, healthy, and happy. Not like this: tired, disheveled, his ugly apartment barely furnished— and full of baby things .
    She was looking directly at the peephole. “Carl, I know you’re there. Are you going to open the door or what?”
    He opened it only a crack. Then he stepped outside, set the catch and quickly shut the door behind him. “Hi,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “How’ve you been, Eve?”
    â€œFine.” Her eyes avoided his. “I guess you’re not going to ask me in…”
    â€œThe place is kind of a mess right now. Otherwise I would.”
    â€œI tried you at work. They said you called in sick today.”
    â€œI’m feeling better now,” he said. Carl smiled at her. She looked beautiful, that relaxed, “natural” beauty which took her twenty minutes in front of the makeup mirror to achieve. Carl hated himself for still feeling drawn to it. She wore the lavender blouse he’d given her last Christmas, his favorite on her. Had she come to try for a reconciliation? He wondered if it were possible. “You look very nice, Eve,” he managed to say.
    She glanced down at his bare feet, then at the undone buttons on his shirt. “I seem to have caught you at a bad time.” She looked beyond him at the door. A tiny frown came to her face. “You have company, don’t you?”
    He swallowed. All the baby things, he couldn’t let her come in and see them. “Yes,” he said. “Sorry.”
    She took a deep breath. “Well, then I’ll get right to the point, Carl. I almost gave them your number here, but I thought, well…” She shrugged. “I felt you shouldn’t hear it over the phone from some stranger. I got a call from this man in Santa Rosa, and he said he’d been trying to locate you for two days. It seems your father had a severe stroke. He—he passed away on Saturday, Carl. I’m sorry.”
    Carl stared at her for a moment. “You’re kidding…”
    â€œThe funeral is day after tomorrow,” she murmured.
    He wondered why he didn’t feel anything. There was no sorrow, not even relief. It merely struck him as ironic, since he’d been thinking so much about the old man recently. “Well, thank you for telling me, Eve,” he heard himself say. “It was very thoughtful of you to come here…very considerate…”
    Was that the only reason she’d come? Had she made herself so alluring just to give him this news, or was there more? He kept telling himself that his father was dead, but he’d never loved him. Yet he still felt something for Eve. And she stood in front of him now, touching his arm. Against all his resolves, he hoped she’d missed him too, and been as lonely as he.
    â€œAre you going to be all right?” she was asking. “I have a feeling this isn’t sinking in yet.”
    â€œOh, I’m fine,” he said. “It’s sweet of you to be so concerned.” He smiled shyly. “Listen, Eve, I’m alone here. There’s no company. I just said that because, well, this place is kind of a rathole, and I didn’t want you pitying me—like I was living in squalor without you…”
    â€œI wouldn’t think that, Carl,” she said.
    â€œListen, maybe if