Chapter 3

Pat is a Genius/Idiot

"Pat, you're a genius!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms around him in a tight hug as I joined him in the bustling cafeteria the next morning.

Pat, who was slurping his usual chai latte, grinned widely at me. "Love the greeting. Let's make it our normal thing from now on."

"I don't think you need any more ego boost," I said, playfully swatting his arm before taking a seat beside him.

"I take it you had a wonderful time with the handsome hunk from the bar?" he asked, extending his half-eaten chicken salad sandwich toward me. I accepted it gratefully, realizing I hadn't had a chance to eat. And after the wild night I just had, my stomach was growling like a dog.

"The best," I emphasized, relishing the memory of the previous night. "He's literally the best sex I've ever had."

Pat chuckled, looking proud of himself. "Ah, I'm glad to hear it. See, only good things happen when you listen to Pat."

"Still creeped me out when you refer to yourself in third person. Although I'll admit I had fun." I commented, taking a huge bite of the sandwich. "I'm not ready for another one-night stand anytime soon. But I'm grateful I followed your advice, Pat. Thanks."

"You're welcome, Meg pie," Pat squeezed me for another hug. "And believe me, your life is only gonna get better from here."

2 Months Later

"Pat, you're an idiot!"

Pat deftly dodged the four-inch-thick, incredibly heavy economics book I hurled at him.

"Meg pie, let's talk about this calmly, okay?" he suggested warily, keeping a cautious distance as he noticed me eyeing another book. "Dang it, why are all your books so thick?"

"I should have never listened to you. I should have never slept with that guy!"

Confusion furrowed Pat's brow. "I-I thought you liked him? Didn't you say he's the best you've had?"

"He is," I replied, a whirlwind of emotions in my chest making it hard to articulate.

"Then what's the problem?" Pat approached cautiously, gently prying the books out of my hand and setting them on the desk. "Hey, what's going on with you, Meg pie? I haven't heard from you in a week, and suddenly you ask me to come over and start throwing stuff at me."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at him, my emotions overwhelming me. I knew this wasn't Pat's fault. It was completely my own. I was the one who had chosen to have sex, and I was the one who had encouraged Leon to continue even when he said he didn't have any condom.

"I'm pregnant," the words slipped out, unbidden and raw.

Pat's eyes widened, his jaw dropping. He seemed momentarily speechless, his face a canvas of surprise, concern, and eventually, comprehension.

"Are you sure?" he asked gently.

I nodded, wiping away the tears streaking down my cheeks. "Yes, I took like five tests this morning. They're all positive."

"But I thought you're on the pill?"

"I was," I replied adamantly. I never miss them.

"What about condoms?" He must have seen the way I falter because he asked again, "You guys did use condoms, did you?'

I hesitated before finally admitting, "No, we didn't."

Pat shook his head in disbelief. "Meg, I can't believe you would be so careless. You always used condoms with your boyfriends, but you let a stranger fuck you raw?" I winced at his crass words. "When I suggested casual relationship to you, I assumed you would be responsible about it, Meg. I'm very disappointed in you."

He was right. I was responsible. Careless was the last thing anyone would describe me. What happened with Leon was completely out of character for me. I couldn't help but wonder what had led me to make such an impulsive decision. Maybe it was the stress of my studies, the pain of recently breaking up with my ex, or simply the allure of someone as charming and attractive as Leon. Whatever the reasons, I knew I had made a mistake, and now I had to face the consequences.

"I know, Pat," I said quietly, my voice tinged with remorse. "I should have been more responsible."

He let out a frustrated sigh, but then his face softened. "Meg, I'm not trying to lecture you to make you feel bad. I just want you to be safe."

I knew Pat's scolding came from a place of concern, not judgment. He wasn't trying to shame me; he genuinely cared. Yet, seeing the disappointment in his eyes stung.

I lowered my face, tears threatening to spill over again. Pat noticed my distress and pulled me into a hug. "Don't cry, Meg pie," he said gently, his arms wrapped protectively around me. "It's going to be alright. You know I'll be here for you."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my emotions. "I know."

Pat held me close as I composed myself. When he finally pulled away, he gazed at me with uncertainty in his eyes. "Are you going to keep the baby?"

I shook my head slowly, still uncertain about what choice to make. "I'm still thinking about it," I replied, my emotions swirling inside me.

Pat nodded understandingly. "You know that I'll support you no matter what you decide to do, right?"

"I know, thank you, Pat." I smiled, feeling incredibly grateful to have him by my side. I really hit the jackpot in the best friend lottery.

"But either way, you should tell that guy."

Pat's suggestion made me pause, and uncertainty crept in. "I don't know where to find him," I admitted, feeling a sense of helplessness. The morning after, we parted ways without exchanging any contact information. I had no way to reach out to Leon even if I wanted to.

"Oh my God, what am I going to do if I can't find him?" Panic started to rise within me, but Pat quickly stepped in.

"Okay, sweetie, calm down," he said gently, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Let's take a deep breath and count to three, okay?" I followed his instruction, trying to steady my breathing. "Now, why don't we start simple? He said his name's Leon?" I nodded. "Did he give you any last name?"

"No. But I remember seeing it on his document," I said, a glimmer of hope surfacing. "It's Leon Scott Kennedy."

Relief washed over Pat's face. "That's a good place to start."

"I also saw he listed STRATCOM as his work address," I added.

"Wait? What? STRATCOM?" Pat's brows shot up. "As in USSTRATCOM?"

I shrugged. "I know the US probably stands for United States, but I don't know what the rest means."

"How did you not know that STRATCOM is short for Strategic Command?" Pat looked at me in disbelief.

"Oh, is that what it stands for?" I replied, nonchalantly. "Hey, I'm Asian. I can't be blamed for not knowing this."

Pat snorted, not buying my excuse. He knew I was born and raised in America. And although my mother was Japanese, I had visited Japan only once in my whole twenty-two years of life.

"Well, at least we know where to start looking."

I nodded. "Thank god for small mercy."

Finding Leon turned out to be a much more challenging task than Pat and I had ever anticipated.

On Thursday morning, we embarked on a three-hour drive to the STRATCOM headquarters, completely missing our classes. When we arrived, we were met with stern-faced security guards who wouldn't let us in because we don't have security clearance.

"Can you at least tell go inside and look for Leon Scott Kennedy? Tell him Meg is looking for him. Please? It's really important." I pleaded, hoping my best puppy eyes could sway them.

One of the guards let out a defeated sigh. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," I replied, my heart racing with anticipation as he vanished into the main building, leaving Pat and me to endure the blistering heat under the watchful eyes of his colleagues.

My hopes were quickly shattered when the same guard returned after a few minutes. "Sorry, but Leon Kennedy isn't here today,"

Frustration bubbled inside me, but I refused to give up. "Well, can you tell me when he'll be back?"

He shook his head, maintaining his unwavering stance. "I'm afraid I'm not allowed to disclose that information."

My temper was starting to flare. "Can I at least get his phone number?"

"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to disclose that information." The guard merely repeated.

Rage welled up inside me, and I was inches away from punching the guy when Pat grabbed my shoulder and whispered in my ear, "Easy there, Meg pie. You don't want to give birth in prison, do you?"

I thought he was being a bit too dramatic, but it had certainly done the job of calming me down. I took a deep breath and turned to face the guard once again.

"Fine. If you can't give me his number, then..." A light bulb went off in my head. I reached into my bag, grabbed a notebook and a pen, and used Pat's back as a makeshift desk, I started writing.

Leon,

It's Meg, you probably already forget about me, but I met you at Rusty Mug, that little bar in Iowa. We spent the night together, remember?

I'm really sorry to have to contact you this way, but I didn't know how else to reach you. People at STRATCOM can't really give out your information, they wouldn't even let me pass the gate because I don't have clearance. Seriously what did you do for a living?

Anyway, I really need to talk to you. ASAP. It's really important. Please just call me as soon as you can.

I scribbled down my number and name at the end. Tearing the paper from the book, I folded it and held it out to one of the guards. "Can you please, please give this letter to him whenever he comes around?"

The guard appeared mildly annoyed, probably not used to visitors like me. Pat stepped up beside me. "We're really sorry to have to bother you guys. But this is a very important matter. Like life and death important. Well, just life." I elbowed him. "UGH-Yeah, just please help us out."

"Fine," the guard in front of me sighed as he took the paper and stuffed it into my pocket. "I'll drop this at the reception and ask them to pass it along when he comes by."

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" I squealed. The guards flinched at the unexpected volume of my voice. "Sorry. We'll be out of your way then."

As Pat and I walked back to our car, I swear I could practically hear the guards silently thanking God for us leaving.

"Okay, now we wait." Pat said.

I nodded. "Now we wait."