Just Like an Angel

I thought I had planned the whole thing out perfectly and had done a great job at making it a surprise.

Rows of dark mountains flew past as I drove with my girlfriend past the North Carolina border well into the night. Kali Uchis’s angelic opening to “Igual Que un Angel” filled the car. It was on my playlist of all Spanish music I had been blasting the whole five-hour drive. I was secretly trying to learn so I could deliver the important line to her in Spanish. Part of this learning was listening to ranchera and corrido, and after my girlfriend introduced me to her, Kali Uchis. 

Something about Kali Uchis's music had spoken to me. Although I only understood about twenty percent of it. My favorite song, “Igual Que un Angel,” had simple enough lyrics that I could understand most of it, but it was also catchy and easy to put on repeat. I would play it around the house, singing it out loud to help it sink in. And although my singing voice could be comparable to a screeching owl, Kali Uchis’s soulful lyrics and voice invite you to sing along, even if you don’t speak Spanish. 

At the time, I didn’t think my sudden obsession with Spanish music, literature, and films sent off any warnings. 

Around the third replay of the song, as we both joined Kali Uchis in the chorus to sing about an endangered heart sent from heaven, she turned down the volume and, in a complete shift of tone, said: 

“I think I know why we’re going to North Carolina.” 

“Yeah. Just to see family.”

She turned in her seat to look at me directly. I briefly turned my head to meet her eyes and sped up.

“No. I think there’s something more.” 

“Nope. Just family time.”

This time, I turned the music back up as I sped up even more. I tried to turn my attention back to the song and translating it in my head. She wasn’t wavering. She turned the volume back down.

“I know what you’re planning.” 

As I tried to rack my brain for a way out of this, blue lights flashed in the mirrors. I had never been so happy to be pulled over. We sat in almost complete silence, with just a faint whisper of Kali Uchis's voice still in the background. After an uncomfortable talk with the highway patrol officer, I got my ticket, and we were back on the road. I only needed to keep her from talking about a possible proposal for the fifteen minutes to my parent's house. 

I hit replay on “Igual Que un Angel” and berated her with questions about the song and its meaning.

“Pero ella quiere calma, no dañar su alma”

“She said, ‘You should’ve seen the way she looked, just like an angel,’” my girlfriend explained while looking over the ticket. 

“And what about the chorus again?” I asked. 

“Un corazón como el tuyo está en extinción”

“What is she saying there?” 

She turned down the music once more—only ten minutes to go. 

“Back to what I was saying before-” she started.

“We should probably call my parents and tell them about the ticket,” I said as a last resort—a ten-minute lecture about getting a ticket from my parents was the only way out at that point. 

My plan had worked, and we got off the phone just as I pulled into the neighborhood in the pitch black of night. And as we drove through the neighborhood, I restarted Kali Uchis's song one more time.