Under a Sombrero

A Short Story (Part One).

I didn’t date for years after William died. I was tempted, but every time I ‘seriously’ considered an invitation, nightmares of the night he was killed began to stir. Time and experience had taught me that the only way to bury those awful memories was to respectfully decline. It was like some twisted and cruel widow’s curse.

Then I met Diego. He was just way too perfect. There was no way in hell that I could turn that man down. The memories came, and the nightmares still haunted me, but something inside of me shifted, and I was ready to fight. Maybe I’d just been waiting for something (or someone) to fight for. 

My therapist found both good and bad in that development. She was glad that I had grasped this new inner strength, but she also thought that I should want to fight for me, not for something outside of myself (like a man that I’d just met). I had to admit she made sense, but I didn’t have time to reflect on the matter – I was going on a date!

The evening was nearly perfect. Diego arrived in a beautiful mustang convertible (a 1965 red and white classic, no less) and he took us along the coastal route so we could see the sunset just before dinner. The colors were spectacular.

We shared mouthwatering crab and lobster, at Perry’s on the pier, and we talked and laughed for what seemed like hours. I was feeling light headed (probably from the wine), and my bed time had come and gone, but Diego insisted that we finish the night off at the Saltwater Lounge, for some drinks and late night Cuban salsa.

The club was crowded. Diego’s connection (he seemed to have one of those everywhere) led us to a private booth and I thanked God for that because it was standing room only. The band must have been on a break because all I heard was what sounded like the roar of a thousand voices – echoing through my head. 

I’m not sure what was in the bottle that was brought to us, but it felt really good going down. I felt at peace for a brief second. Then the band started up, and I could feel their instruments – pulsing through my body. My ears throbbed, and it felt like the lights were burning my skin… and that’s all I remember.

Until I woke up that is. The next morning. Alone. On a deserted beach. With my shoes missing, and my aching head under a sombrero.

READ ON

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I’ll keep my note short. 

Hello, hello! It feels good to be back! I have some back story on the creation of my image for this part of the story, but I’ll save that story for next time. I wanted to start writing while I had the sombrero idea in my head – and now it’s late and I’m tired. All I can say is that I’ve been obsessing over a story involving a sombrero. Haha! Weird.

But I think this story will be interesting! There are so many ways it can go…

• Does our narrator need rehab?
• Where is Diego, and why did he leave her there?
• Is this a mystery? 
• Is Diego a missing person… or worse?

Hopefully we’ll find out soon! 

Until then,
Peace & Love!

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!