Homecoming Post 2: Cane the Kappa- The Untold Story

I believe in aliens. I believe that at one point, dolphins could walk and talk like humans. And, because my grandma is from the Midwest, I believe that spaghetti and fried fish is an actual meal. But I think what makes me truly delulu is the imaginary anything I have created in my mind with Cane the Kappa. 
I remember when I first saw Cane, and this was before he became a Kappa. He was walking behind St. Jo with a bunch of volleyballs or basketballs or something. I know nothing about sports. He was unassuming, just a tall, thin, very light-skinned boy taking a stroll with a bunch of balls. He was cute, and I decided, in accordance with fulfilling my personal goal of becoming besties with only hot guys, I would approach him next year, my sophomore year, when I came back to school skinny , and make him my friend. Let's just say that the Kappas got to him before this goal could be actualized. I remember his probate show. I knew it was him before he took off his little disguise. The dream died, and he became XU-famous. This is all just background for the story I'm about to tell you now, which led to me having a question for him for 23 years. 
THE STORY
One very early morning in 2004 or 5, I was thrown out of the 24-hour study room for falling asleep and snoring. I walked out the side of the library, passed the tennis courts, and around to where the old student center used to be. There was an AKA seating situation over there, and I saw Cane canoodling with Pretty Africa, that super-tall AKA who used to wear kente prints with her Greek gear. They looked so in love, and the sight made me smile all the way back to the dorm. If Cane and I were not meant to be, at least he would be with someone cool. I couldn't wait to see them during the day as a couple, but never did. It dawned on me that I had probably witnessed the fruit of a secret love affair like from the soap operas! I wanted to ask him about it, but he was ALWAYS with the Kappas, which I could have handled if it weren't for the little mean one. But not the one you are thinking of, the other one. 
THE CONVERSATION 
My conversation with Cane left me with more questions than answers. It was hot the day of the tailgate, and watching people try to stay cool was making me feel hotter. I just happened to look over my shoulder, and there was Cane, walking alone, just as I'd first seen him years earlier, only with no balls. He also looked shorter. 
"Cane!" I called.
To my surprise, he walked over to me and gave me a church hug. He was drinking out of a beer can in a paper bag, and he wore a designer fanny pack across his chest like a Girl Scout sash. 
"I have a question for you, one question, two parts," I began. "I've been wanting to ask you this question for years."
I have to admit, I was excited. I wanted the tea on what I assumed was a whirlwind romance between him and Pretty Africa. 
"Okay," he said. It was a million degrees, and he just seemed so chill. His New Orleans accent was THICK. The only way it could sound more New Orleans is if it was coming out of an alligator's mouth. 
"Did you have a secret girlfriend when we were in school?" I asked. 
"Yes, but she was a *#$5@," he said. 
*#$5@?
"It wasn't Pretty Africa?" I asked. 
He shook his head. "Naw, you have me confused with my line brother. He looks exactly like me."
"Oh yeah? He has your same skin and long hair?"
"Yep." Before you ask no, there was no Kappa while we were there that looked anything like him at all. My bs-o-meter began to go off in my left foot, although it could have been diabetic nerve pain. 
"I don't remember that for real," he said, "unless I was drunk." 
Side eye. Blame it on the alcohol.
"I have another question," I said. "Is it true that you are a literal Million-Dollar Nupe? That you won the lottery?"
He shrugged. "Yeah, but it was just a small jackpot."
And then, just like that, he was gone. This guy is a riddle wrapped in a poem dressed in Prada/Gucci. 
I assume it will be another 23 years before I talk to him again. I guess he went back to the Kappa tent after we talked, but I imagine he called Pretty Africa immediately to tell her that their jig was up and to hide their big lotto winnings. Like I said, I'm delulu.