Beverley's Bolero, chapter 1

I was born Beverley Feldman on December 9th, 1978 in the small town of Luverne, Alabama. I was a down home girl. I loved my life, had a great upbringing, a high education; I was smart and raring to show my skills off to the world. I had majored in herbal medicines and by the time I was twenty-four I was in desperate search of a position needing to be filled.

So I packed it on up and moved to California, San Francisco, California to be more exact. To me it was my land of opportunities and as it turned out, it was worth my while in more ways than one. Not only did I find work at a new State-of-the-Art facility, I also met my husband there; a handsome twenty year my senior, neurosurgeon.

Edward and I fell quickly in love. Two years after meeting, we married in the Fairmont Hotel on Mason Street on January 16th, 2005. I remember how sweet the wedding was and I can still recall the taste of that expensive champagne.

I was now, Mrs. Edward Sampson.

By 2007, I had turned twenty-nine and was quite settled into my new life. Money was no object for my husband and I. We enjoyed our highlife and our beautiful home located in the Claremont Hills of Berkeley. We had gorgeous panoramic yet secluded views of the bay, and a bedroom balcony situated overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge where we sometimes made love.

Edward didn't want children very much though and I can honestly say that's the only thing that really plagued our marriage. I was in dire need of a little one I could mother and he was in dire need of not dealing with the hassle of it all.

I remember him breaking the news to me as I was breaking the news to him.

"Edward, I'm late," I cried, happily.

"Oh," he said, and that was all.

It was heart-wrenching I could tell he was unenthused. In fact, he even told me he didn't want kids, right there, right then. You'd think he would have told me before I dedicated my life to him. But no, he didn't. So I just put it to the back of my mind,, thinking that in time he would change his mind.

I had an abortion and life went on.

I remember looking out across the bay one evening in the summertime. The sun beat down on my skin as I massaged my own ground solution of aloe vera and oatmeal onto my forearms. It was like I did it subconsciously because the beauty of the bay entranced me and my thoughts were of my marriage to Edward. I remember looking out into the glowing orange waters and questioning if this was my destiny.

This wasn't my destiny, not yet.

When my husband informed me his work was transferring him to Tokyo I thought maybe this was the start of something new for us as a couple. We put our house up for sale. I quit my job at the facility and we moved on to Tokyo where I opened my own practice out of an office space just down the way from our new house.

My new environment and surroundings left me feeling slightly homesick; it was way worse than what I had experienced after my move from Luverne. It was like I had left a part of myself behind and I was in fear that I would never get that same young woman back. I would never be the same old southern girl, Beverley Feldman, whom had dreams of children and a stable marriage.

I was Beverley Sampson. I lived in Tokyo now with no children and a husband whom was often too busy to fit me into his schedule. Nothing was going to fix this atrocity it seemed. This was my destiny, I thought. I was going to have to learn to deal or otherwise pulverize my happy marriage.

I didn't want to have to do that. So I didn't. I wasn't strong enough yet.

I turned thirty without complaint and as I bore the cooler winter months of Japan all I could think about was my third wedding anniversary to Edward. It was coming up in just a little over a month and although Christmas fell sooner, I could only imagine what my husband and I would do on our one special day a year.

Would we take a short time away from our jobs and go sightseeing along the western shore or ride our bikes through the city as the blazing sun was setting over the skyscrapers? I didn't care really. I just wanted normal. Feminine little Beverley Sampson wanted a normal life. I thought I had it but it was simply denial that I possessed.

We didn't do anything for our anniversary because as we found out -after being diagnosed early that January -I had breast cancer. Yes, Beverley the health nut who wouldn't touch anything unless it was at one time rooted in the ground, developed cancer. It was quite devastating for me, being a young thirty and trying to cope with the fact that I might die. And it was also quite a twist being thrown into the role of a patient when I was so used to the high status professional position.

I had no idea.

I was scared as hell as I checked into the hospital and was given my own room overlooking Tokyo's finest district. The serenity of the beauty did not seem to cure my mind or my body. I had visions of them cutting my breast off and my husband not being attracted to me thereafter. I prayed it wouldn't be the case and as I went in for my third round of tests, the doctor informed me I would only be having a minor operation done to one of my lactiferous ducts; one of the interior tools that carries milk after pregnancy.

A minor operation, though booked as emergency surgery.

Edward was there for me the majority of the time I went through this. I even asked him the most challenging of questions because I felt so alone and so afraid.

"Edward? Can't you perform the surgery on me? I'd feel a lot safer."

"I can't Bevvy, I'm a neurosurgeon. I've never done surgeries like this before. You know I'll be by your side the entire time..."

So, he didn't want to. Or perhaps I was overreacting. I was a highly-trained professional myself, not quite as high-ranked as he was. I should still have had my smarts about me though, but perhaps I was so instilled with fear. So Edward didn't perform the surgery, instead a doctor by the name of Hubert Radley did.

When I was wheeled out of the operating room I was still out cold, I have no memory of it. Instead, I woke the next morning feeling sore and depressed.

I was alone; all by myself. The seat beside my bed was vacant and I was pretty sure this was a single room unoccupied by any other patients. I fluttered my eyelashes as I tried to bring myself back up to full capacity, it wasn't as easy as it may have seemed. I can recall eyeing around for any sign of my husband and the coffee cups left strewn across my table were my assurance he had been there at sometime or another.

Apparently I would look good as new afterwards, although I must say I can recall how fucking shitty I really felt.

Edward returned to the room some minutes later and it was then that I recalled what he'd said to me post-op. You know I'll be by your side the entire time...

He had lied to me. My husband had felt comfortable enough to get up and leave his sick wife for a stroll. I lay there in my bed and as he and I made small talk I thought about those words of his. Did he mean he'd be with me in spirit, because he really hadn't been with me the entire time?

That occasion passed. I recovered swiftly and Edward and I rescheduled our wedding anniversary for the following two weeks.

He had made dinner reservations at the Westin Tokyo Hotel. The building featured five restaurants and we just so happened to be attending the rooftop one. I felt slightly pleased with my husband's gesture it was so unlike him to take time off work to treat me to a nice meal. Like I said, one special day a year, that's all he ever gave me.

I was sitting humbly in a green Gucci gown, my blonde hair cascading down my shoulders delicately as our waiter kindly tried to speak English to us. He was doing a poor job, but we got the gist of most things he was saying.

As we were supposed to be staring at our menus, I could not help but be distracted with looking at Edward's face. He seemed so distant from me, although he was looking at his meal choices, I still would have thought he'd sense my eyes locked on him and return me a glance. He didn't.

"Do you know what you want?" I asked him softly.

"Sirloin steak," he replied, not even looking up for a moment.

"Oh," I replied, "that might be good." Look at me Edward, look at me... I began to shift in my seat uncomfortably as I glanced around the restaurant at all the happy couples holding hands by candlelight. Edward never asked our waiter for a candle, which would simply be too romantic. I let out a sigh that showed I wasn't amused, but my husband didn't notice, that much I know. I let my eyes wander around the room of the restaurant again. First I looked down to the floor feeling low about myself then I trailed over to see a unique shoe sticking out from underneath a tablecloth. It was black and had little marijuana leafs on it; a teenager's shoe, obviously. I scrunched my nose then let my eyes trail up the leg of the owner of the shoe. The leg wore a black pinstripe pant that I automatically recognized as being Versace, and as my eyes ventured further north I took in the site of a t-shirt hidden beneath a matching pinstripe blazer. It was then I simply had to swallow because this person dressed entirely in black was not a teenager at all. It was an attractive man of middle age, brown hair and a restless demeanor.

"Bevvy, the waiter would like to know what you want to eat," Edward yelped suddenly.

"Oh," I said, jumping up and down in my seat before returning to reality. "Umm, I'll have the sirloin steak, medium rare." I pointed at the menu as I spoke so the Japanese-speaking waiter could see what I wanted. He nodded his head and I shared him a respectful smile.

"Same for me, but rare," Edward said, sounding business as he pointed his index finger at the menu.

I looked at him after handing my menu to the waiter. I could not help but shake my head, and have a wondering bestow upon me and whether or not Edward was the man I thought I'd married. I bit my bottom lip in deep discontent with myself and the woman I'd become. My eyes began to wander along the floor again, the triangular pattern of the carpet, entrancing and generic like my life. And then, there were those shoes again, covered in marijuana leafs, as I call them, being a herbalist doctor. I flinched my nose before quickly gazing up to look into the eyes of the owner of the shoes. He glanced at me and off-guard threw me a sweet smile. I jumped slightly and looked away, after his gesture, realizing I was having a moment with this stranger. It appeared he was alone, his image glowing iridescent in the candlelight of my mind as I could not bring myself to look at him again.

"Happy anniversary, Bevvy," Edward said, quietly.

I turned to look at my husband, extending my hands out across the table as I swallowed back a lump in my dry throat. He took my hands in his and out of the corner of my eye, I saw that man sitting at the other table get up and start to walk away. My heart began to race out of my chest, I wanted to reply my husband the same, but my emotions felt so opposite to happy anniversary. I let my words hold off for far too long and my husband withdrew his hands from mine.

"I'm sorry..." I whispered.

"What is it Beverley?" Edward said, folding his arms across his chest defensively.

"I don't feel happy," I replied.

"Oh. Is it the cancer or your operation?" he asked as though he had assured himself that was the only thing that made my life at all unhappy.

"No Edward...it's you."

He froze and then a awkward smile spread across his face. He looked uncomfortable, but also I could sense a hint of sadism in his eyes. He looked as though he felt joy in my sadness.

My under eyes began to sting as I thought thoroughly about what I wanted the next words from my mouth to be. It seemed I'd have to make them count because I didn't feel like I could linger around for that much longer.

"You don't know anything about what I want in this marriage, nor do you care. You never have Mr. Sampson," I said, addressing him formally. "And you know what Edward?" I chastised.

"What?"

"For a brain surgeon, you sure know nothing about a woman's mind. Maybe you should get your own head examined!" I shrieked, and I hopped up from the table.

"Beverley..." he said, in a low deep voice.

"No Edward! We're getting a divorce! I can't take your fucking insensitivity anymore! I just need to get away...I'm moving back to California," I rationalized, looking down at him as he remained seated at the table. His face was red and he looked like his only real worry was my making a scene, ruining his reputation.

"Beverley, sit down," he ordered me in that same low voice.

"Fuck you Edward!" I huffed, grabbing up my evening bag before running off for the elevator.

"I can't believe...after everything I've done for you!" he yelped after me. "Don't expect me to chase you!"

I ignored him and as I sprinted my way out of the dining area, I swore I could see my husband's glaring reflection in the elevator doors. I halted in front of the doors and pushed the button that would take me down to the lobby where I knew I would run out into the streets of Tokyo, a lonely lost American. I bit my bottom lip with anxiety as I watched the floor lights light up as the elevator climbed. When the elevator stopped, the doors opened and I disappeared into that shaft quicker than I came. I turned around and situated myself in an angry stance. I witnessed Edward give me the finger before the doors closed and I began my descent. It was then I truly began to cry and released my eyes of their burn. It felt like each lower floor I approached was closer to my shot at a family, going down the tubes. I buried my face in my hands, sulking, the elevator halted and I found myself towing out into a red-carpeted hallway. My evening white " Double C" logo Chanel bag was strewn on my shoulder as my green Gucci wavered behind me. I ran without sight it seemed. My steps were stammered and my sadness was suddenly overshadowed by something worse; it was fear.

I was thrown against the wall violently. I tried to catch myself and eventually found myself on the floor, covering my head and screaming for dear life. The close-knit hallway began to tremor back in forth as though the walls might collapse in on me. I coward, I heard other people pertaining screams that exceeded the volume of my own.

That's when I felt something hit me over the head, and I fell unconscious.

I had a dream early that night it was filled with images of the man that broke my heart. It was about my future, not here in Japan, but amongst the orange waters of my destiny in The Bay of California. That was my destiny, but not yet. Not yet.