kaya’s texts are short and her tone is cold; without saying so, it’s clear she’s bailing on the vague plans to “watch another movie or something” they had made a few days ago. it gives andre 3000 the feeling there’s more to the distance between them than just the several city blocks separating their apartments.
“i can’t sleep with anybody without getting attached,” kaya had confessed last weekend while sitting in andre 3000’s lap. the two of them had been left alone by a fire burning in kaya’s friends’ backyard while kaya’s friends were inside their house, finishing what was left of the josé cuervo 1.75 andre 3000 had purchased—using the last $25 in his bank account—earlier that afternoon.
andre 3000 wasn’t thrilled about sharing his alcohol with these two other people he’d just met; he had initially hoped to have enough of the bottle left for himself to drink the following weekend, but when he picked kaya up for the bonfire earlier that night (sometime around 10:30), she mentioned both her friends had “worked past nine”—the legal closing time for all liquor stores across wisconsin.
“why don’t the two of us just stay in and drink here,” andre 3000 had suggested, knowing if they showed up to a dry house he would feel an awkward pressure of social obligation to share his tequila with kaya’s friends, instead of just with kaya, as he’d only been expecting to.
kaya replied with phrases like “i’ve been inside all day” and “it’s friday night i don’t want to be lame,” and since andre 3000 had recently developed strong feelings of affection for her, and didn’t want to argue over something that might make her resent him (also fearing further pressing on the subject might spotlight his poor financial situation), he gave her what he imagined a genuine smile would look like on the face of someone who’s not at all disappointed by what course the night was already headed, then asked for directions to her friends’ house.
later that night, when he was dropping her back off, kaya asked if he wanted to come in and watch an episode of [tv show andre 3000 recognized the name of but didn’t otherwise know] she had recently torrented. they entered kaya’s apartment and, almost immediately, their lips found each other, soon buckling together to the hardwood without bothering to find a light switch, both feeling rushes of confidence from the fusion of tequila and hormones as they had drunken, uninhibited sex on kaya’s floor along the unmarked borders of her kitchen and living room areas. afterwards they moved to her bed where they passed out side by side, eventually awaking in the morning and attempting round two before submitting to their debilitating hangovers.
since then they have only spoken three times, each via short-lived text message conversations initiated by andre 3000. now, almost a full week later, he sits on the edge of his full-size bed with his macbook open in his lap, robotically scrolling through his facebook feed, trying to find something happening nearby to replace his previous plans with kaya, which he’d been looking forward to, but now is certain won’t be happening.
not able to find anything going on, andre 3000 closes his browser and starts playing a sigur rós album on spotify. he sets his macbook off to the side and stands up. he feels compelled to rearrange his room—move the bed next to his desk, put the dresser in its place, slide the bookshelf next to the door and finally organize its contents—then immediately sits back down. he closes his eyes and tries distracting himself by focusing on each song’s lyrics, imagining what each icelandic word might mean—but no matter how hard he tries, he’s still unable to free his mind from thoughts of what kaya confessed to him the weekend before.
for some unknown reason—maybe because of a curse placed upon him by a sorceress he unknowingly wronged, or possibly a mirror he had broken and forgotten within the past seven years—andre 3000 feels he always turns out to be the disappointing exception to everyone’s expectations. he feels he could have spared himself this mental-anguish medley of disappointment and embarrassment had he just assumed, from the moment she said it, that what kaya had really meant to confide in him by the fire was, “i can’t sleep with anybody without getting attached… except for you.”
