“My dad. He’s--” There was sobbing, in the midst of which sounded like the words heart attack. “Please call me back. I love you.”

The machine beeped again, signaling the end of the message. Ben grabbed the phone and dialed Allison’s dorm room in Austin, before gut instinct made him hang up the phone and dial a number he knew by heart. The same one he had always called when they were growing up. After two rings, the line clicked and Allison answered the phone.

“Allison? What happened?”

“He’s dead, Ben.” Allison broke down, Ben trying to console her while she regained her composure. “My father,” she said when she was capable. “He’s dead.”

* * * * *

Convincing his parents to send him a plane ticket hadn’t been hard. They had been begging him to come home for Christmas, which he had resisted. Ben had loved the idea of being alone in Chicago, celebrating the holidays with only his boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend, he corrected.

His parents managed to get him a flight on Christmas Eve and had probably paid through the nose to do so. The only available flight was a midnight express. The plane boarded in record time due to having fewer than twenty passengers. Ben’s seat was in the front of coach in the emergency exit row, and while still not first class, it did have more leg room than all the rows behind him. With the seats next to him free, Ben was soon stretched out and sleeping, but not before looking down on the city that had been his home the last year and a half.

Ben stirred when the air pressure changed, indicating that the plane had begun its descent. He shifted uncomfortably, the pocket watch pressing painfully against his hip and regretted keeping it. So far it had been a constant reminder of his losing streak with love. Only his own poor taste was to blame. Since starting college, he had found plenty of legitimate guys who had taken an interest in him. These relationships never lasted more than a few weeks, while Ben’s appetite for unavailable straight guys continued to thrive. Once he’d even broken up with a guy after developing a crush on his straight brother.

All of this left a bad taste in Ben’s mouth, reminding him of high school. He had waited so long to be free of that environment, where every guy he wanted was straight or closeted. The number of openly gay students in college appeared limitless, but still Ben was attracted to those he couldn’t have and he didn’t understand why. Was it a fear of commitment or a fetish for straight guys? Probably neither. He wanted nothing more than a serious long-term relationship. Perhaps his particular tastes couldn’t be satisfied by anyone, straight or gay.

Or maybe he was still yearning for Tim. Ben looked out the window at the orange city lights and wondered for the thousandth time what had become of him. Since the summer they had broken up, Tim had disappeared. He still lived in the same house, since his car was often in the driveway, but Ben never saw Tim out jogging or at school the next year. He must have gone to a school in the next district, maybe a private one.

“Funeral, huh?”

Ben came out of his repose to see a flight attendant sitting next to the emergency exit in one of those fold-down chairs they used during take off and landing. The man was in his mid-twenties and thin, with the sort of high cheek bones that provided models with job security. His dirty blonde hair was short on the sides and medium length on top, with just enough styling product to make it stand up. Overall he was very attractive and rather dapper in his airline uniform.

“Sorry?” Ben inquired.

“You’re flying because of a funeral,” the man stated in a pleasantly deep voice.

Ben was taken aback. “Well, yeah. How did you know?”

The flight attendant rested a hand on his chin, his long index finger on his cheek. “Your face was so sad. People never look sad when they fly, unless there is a funeral involved.”

Ben felt a pang of guilt. He had been reminiscing about failed relationships when he should have been thinking of Allison and what she was going through.

“Of course,” the flight attendant mused further, “we also get sad faces when people have to leave their partners behind, although passengers usually recover from that by the time we land.”

“Well, if you must know,” Ben began testily. He was becoming irritated with this stranger prying into his personal affairs. “Not only is there a funeral, but my boyfriend robbed me yesterday, thus becoming my ex.”

“That would explain it. A double whammy. Here, on the house.”

The flight attendant reached into a pocket and took out two mini bottles of vodka. “My name’s Jace, by the way,” he said as he tossed them to Ben.

“Your name tag says Jason,” Ben pointed out.

“I know.” Jace took hold of the tag and angled it to better see. “Isn’t that mean? I told them I wanted one that says Jace, but that’s not my legal name. Where do they get these things, anyway? Is there a store that sells them somewhere? That would be cool. Then I could buy my own.”

Ben laughed and introduced himself.

“That can’t be your legal name either,” Jace replied. “It must be Benjamin?”

“Just Ben,” he replied tersely. He didn’t like anyone to call him by his full name. Not anymore.

“Well, it’s very economical at least. Only three letters.”

Ben looked down at the two tiny bottles of booze. “Care to join me?” he asked, offering one.

“Nope. Not allowed to drink on duty,” Jace explained. “I don’t really drink anyway. I only take them because they make such nice stocking stuffers.”

“Are there flights on Christmas?” Ben asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

“Oh, yes,” Jace replied with an exasperated look. “There isn’t a day of the year that the airlines don’t serve.”

“That must suck.”

“It can, but this year I finagled it so I have Christmas off.” Jace paused and looked wistfully out of the window. “It’ll be nice to be home again.”

“So you live in Houston?”

“Yeah. You?”

Ben shook his head. “Chicago.”

“Too bad.” Jace said this casually enough, but the words hit Ben like a lightning bolt.

“I’ll probably be in town a few weeks,” Ben amended hurriedly.

Jace raised an eyebrow and smiled. He didn’t reply. Instead he looked expectant. “You know,” he said eventually, “there is a strict company policy against asking passengers out on dates.”

“Oh.”

“That’s not to say that you can’t ask me.”

Jace’s grin matched Ben’s own.

* * * * *

Christmas came and went, but Ben barely noticed. The entire day was spent trying to console Allison, who was now alone in the world except for an aunt and a few cousins who had decided not to leave Colorado for the funeral.

Details of what had happened unfolded during the lulls of Allison’s crying spells. A neighbor had seen Mr. Cross collapse in the driveway and had called the police instead of an ambulance. Allison’s father had been found passed out in the street a month before, so the neighbor thought he was simply drunk again. By the time the police arrived, Mr. Cross was in critical condition from a heart attack. He died on the way to the hospital.

“He never really got better,” Allison confided as they sat together in the living room of her childhood home. “He always drank too much, and it only got worse once I went to college.”

“At least his temper mellowed with you,” Ben said.

Allison shook her head once.

Ben sat up on the couch. “You mean it didn’t?”

“No,” Allison confirmed. “Well, it did, obviously, in that I was able to date and hang out with you again, but he still went into his rages and acted really paranoid, especially when drunk. He even claimed once that you were blackmailing him.”

“I kind of was,” Ben admitted. “I threatened to tell people that he was molesting me if he ever hit you again. He didn’t, did he?”