Sometimes Duck felt invisible. He didn’t seem to notice Duck whenever they met in town. Their exchanges consisted mostly of “Hi, how are you doing?”, the usual polite pointless greetings because no one ever listened to what you answered.
It hurt because Duck knew that he went to the Watch, too. But there, in the dark, hidden from the world, their faces and their actions remained unseen, their names unsaid. Inconsequential behaviour that no one could hold you accountable for. It didn’t have to be explained and neither did you have to own up to your feelings. You could go there and scratch that particular itch and then you could go home to your wife.
Sometimes Duck wondered who was the bigger liar – the other man for cheating on his wife and pretending that he wasn’t different or Duck himself because he knew all that, knew that the steady love relationship he longed for was as far away as the next gay bar on the mainland and yet he still went to the Watch, even if it couldn’t give him what he really wanted.
But then you had to take what you could get.