Whitenoise

Posted on 31 Aug 2013 @ 9:03pm by Verity Thorne

614 words; about a 3 minute read

Sitting back in his seat, Verity thought over what he'd already said in his log and what else there was he wanted to say. And more importantly, how to say it. He knew that this wasn't for public consumption, but a part of him was acutely aware that the words, once recorded, were documented. So he wanted to make sure he said what he meant.

"Things have - progressed with Oliver," a small smile came to the chaplain as he thought about his room mate, holding his breath. There was, perhaps, also a hint of colour on his skin.

"I thought, at first, he may have regretted the kiss we shared the other night," he admitted quietly, shaking his head, almost anxious with it as he looked down. "I didn't want to push it and create an embarrassing situation," he laughed softly at himself. He might not be a priest anymore, but he had been for a long time; he wasn't the most practiced man when it came to relationships and liaisons.

"Oliver though, he took me to the 'park'. I think we're going to give it a go," he smiled widely, looking to the screen recording to him, excitement gleaming in his blue eyes.

"It's difficult though," he said softly. "With my - doubts. Over whether I'm doing the right thing here, and walking away from the priesthood," he looked down to his hands that were twisting lightly around each other. "Feeling like I'm not serving well enough, that I'm not doing enough anymore. For Him. To work. For - people."

Verity shook his head with a frown, rubbing the back of his neck. "I feel guilty," he almost whispered. "With all of that in my head, I feel guilty for being with Oliver. For spending time with him just for me, it seems - selfish, after years in the priesthood."

He stretched out, shaking his head with a frown. "Guilt, doubt - everything seems to come back to those two things these days. When I was young, I'd have laughed if someone said my life would revolve around those things. I was so sure, so certain I was doing the right thing. It hurt sometimes, seeing the people I worked with and their pain and unfortunate situations, but it seemed like I was doing the right thing. Now - I don't seem to be able to work out what the right thing to do is anymore. I miss it. I miss certainty," he gave a half, weak smile as he watched the screen before pressing his lips tightly together.

"Oliver is the first thing I've felt certain about since leaving the priesthood," he said quietly. "And he's the first thing that has made me feel alive, and a man of my own, not just someone in service, warm and desireable - yes, right or wrong, he actually makes me feel like I can be an object of desire, and that warms me. So why does it all make me feel guilty? Why do I still have so many doubts and questions?"

Verity rubbed his forehead with a frown, his breath catching. "I think on a coming shoreleave I need to go to church. A real one. Where I can listen in the quiet. It all feels like whitenoise up here. And it's giving me a headache. Because it never seems enough. Whatever I'm doing and working on, no matter how many hours I work, it never seems enough anymore."

Leaning forward, he reached for his glass of scotch, draining it easily. He shook his head lightly, frowning as he reached out to delete the log. It made no sense. Just more whitenoise.

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