I Don't Love You

I Figured It Out

May 26.

Eleven months after Vegas.

The next time I answer a Skype call from Gerard, I'm in uniform.

He takes a moment to assess the change, leaning close to the screen and back again, squinting, before he says, "Holy shit, Frank. Either you're a stripper or that's a real fucking badge."

I nod, grinning, and tug at the tag pinned on my blue shirt. The words engraved give it texture, rough under my fingertips where it says Newark Police. I hold it up to the camera so he can see, but the words just blur, making a gold smudge of nothingness across the screen. "It's a real fucking badge!"

"Holy shit, you're a cop," Gerard says. The words seem to resonate with him because a grin forms on his lips. "Holy shit!"

"I know!" I strike a Superman pose. "Officer Iero, upholding the law."

"How the hell, dude?" Gerard wonders.

"I enrolled in the academy," I state obviously. "I mean... after we talked on New Year's Eve, I started thinking." I lean back on the couch, picking absently at the nametag that reads "F. Iero." It makes my stomach flutter, like little fireworks being set off. Excitement. Happiness.

"I didn't want to work at a movie theater for the rest of my life. But I didn't know what the fuck I wanted to do. I didn't have a calling or a purpose or any bullshit like that. But then a few days later, some kids tried to rob the theater. Dumbass move, if you ask me. Everybody pays with debit cards now. The arcade across the street probably had a lot more money than us. Anyways," I wave my hand, trying to get back on topic. "We had to call the cops and give a report and while they were there it was like this... I don't know... this revelation."

"So you enrolled in the academy?"

"The next day," I nod. "Quit my job on the spot. It took pretty much everything that I saved up to cover the tuition, but it was so worth it."

"You work for Newark PD?" Gerard asks.

"An area of it," I tell him. "I work for the youth and community service bureau. I handle juvenile crimes."

"Like kids?" Gerard snorts. "You're a glorified babysitter."

"I am not a babysitter!" I protest. "I handle anything where a minor gets busted for illegal activity. Sometimes it's just driving home some drunk kids and giving them a warning, or documenting their community service. Then I have to go up in front of a judge and say whether or not I think they've learned their lesson." There's a silence that follows, and I sigh. "Fine, I'm sort of a glorified babysitter. But I'm a babysitter with a fucking badge!"

"Did they give you a gun?"

"And handcuffs and a taser! I even get to drive a cruiser!"

Gerard laughs. "Do you like it?"

"The cruiser? It's nice. The sirens are fun."

"No, dipshit," Gerard snorts. "I mean the job."

"I fucking love it," I admit. "It's amazing. I'm helping these kids. Not just arresting them. I'm actually helping. And dammit, it feels good."

A slow smiles spreads across Gerard's face. "Then I'm happy for you, Frank. You're doing something you love. That's awesome!"

"Speaking of doing things we love," I say slowly, subtly steering the conversation away from me. "Last time we skyped, you mentioned those meetups where you can meet other asexual people. Did you go?"

Gerard grins, nodding. "I did," He says. "I've been to a couple of them actually."

"And you're out? Do they know?"

"They do," Gerard says. "I've made a couple of friends, people I can talk to that understand what it feels like. It's easier to work it out in my mind, to make sense of it all, when I have other people who get it too. They've asked all the same questions I'm asking now. They've come to terms with it. And I am, too."

"That's great, Gee."

I don't realize it until the nickname is out of my mouth, but by then it's too late to take it back. Gerard notices, too, but he doesn't mention it. He looks down, lips quirking up in a minute smile.

"I umm..." I clear my throat. "I have to get to work, but we'll talk again soon. Right?"

"Sure thing," Gerard smiles. I can see him move his finger to the end call button, but he hesitates. Then he says, "Bye Frankie," and immediately ends the call.