Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: Chapter Thirty (Role Play Edition)

 

Five Days Later…

 

You’re all gathered backstage. You fumble with the large buttons at the collar of your blouse, flicking them between your thumb and forefinger in an effort to relieve some of the tension you feel.

 

You’re super fidgety and you hate how much it shows. You do a few breathing and posture exercises as you mentally prepare yourself for tonight. For all of tonight.

 

The week has breezed by and it’s already Saturday. The day of the big performance is finally here.

 

There are only twenty minutes left before the show begins, and you’re both incredibly excited and nervous. You’re always really nervous and excited right before performing, but you feel even more tightly wound this time around.

 

You’ve been having a lot of trouble and doubt with preparing for this particular performance because of this thing with your stomach, and the fact that it’s the most important performance you’ve had to date. You’ve managed to get the hitching under control over the course of the week while you practiced privately, and during rehearsals as well.

 

“Gallo!” you turn at the sound of your name, wincing internally as you register who it’s coming from.

 

Vito.

 

You walk over to her seated form as she takes down some last minute notes while everyone else does last minute touches and costume adjustments before you go on stage.  You stop in front of her, but she doesn’t bother to look up.

 

“Yes, ma’am?”

 

Her voice is cool and distant when she speaks. “Switch places with Daniels,” she says.

 

Your eyes go wide, your brows arch high, and you stare at her nonchalant expression as she continues to vigorously scribble down whatever it is she’s so focused on.

 

For several seconds you remain frozen in absolute shock. You’re stunned beyond belief, and you feel as if you’ve just been sucker-kicked in the face.

 

Surely, you must have misheard her.

 

“Wh-what?” your words leave your throat in little above a whisper, clearly drenched in shock and disbelief.

 

She finally meets your eyes, and her expression goes from typically stern and unbothered, to typically stern and sour, as if she’s being pestered by an annoying gnat.

 

“Unless you’ve been having as much trouble with your hearing as you have your singing, I’m sure you heard me perfectly,” she says. “Switch places with Daniels.”

 

She goes back to torturing the paper she’s writing on with harsh strokes of her pen, as if she’s envisioning scratching your face up with it.

 

You struggle to swallow the lump that’s quickly forming in your throat, feeling it constrict in the way that it does when you know you want to cry. What quickly follow are the beginnings of soreness that typically come with the feeling and the telling, stinging sensations behind your eyes.

 

You can’t believe it; you can’t believe you’re being replaced so easily, right before a big performance, and without so much as a second thought.

 

You feel like you’re being kicked in both your sides while you’re already down. You feel betrayed and absolutely humiliated.

 

Still, you manage to keep your wits about you and try your best not to take it personally—even if that’s so much easier said than done.

 

Vito’s silence ensues as she continues to act like you’re not standing there. You take a step back, turning away from her and her demeaning energy and vigorous scribbling.

 

You quietly head back to the ensemble and assume your new position. Kayla walks past you, offering a small, apologetic smile as she takes hers. If Vito was going to replace you, she really should have done it with Wendy or someone else you hate or don’t care for. You like Kayla. She’s sweet and considerate, and it’s obvious in her expression that she feels guilty about the switch.

 

And it makes it so much harder for you because you can’t be mad at her. As much as you want to hate her right now, you just can’t. This isn’t her fault.

 

And as much as your currently hurt feelings want you to blame Vito, it’s not really hers, either—although she certainly makes it pretty darn easy not to care and point the finger at her inconsiderate ass anyway.

 

So you guess it’s your fault, even if it isn’t. You suppose saying that it’s no one’s fault and just an unfortunate turn of events should make you feel better about the situation, but it doesn’t.

 

You sigh. This sucks. I mean, this really, really sucks. You feel so defeated and helpless. You’ve been looking forward to this performance since last year, and you’ve worked your ass off, practicing every day for it despite the challenges you’ve been facing, and investing every free second you had into rehearsing for it, even during your breaks at work. And in the end, it was all for nothing, all because of something you can’t control and can’t even put a fucking name to.

 

You don’t know which aspect of it is more frustrating. You feel so disappointed, mostly in yourself. At the end of the day, it’s still your body, and therefore, your responsibility.

 

If this keeps up, you have no doubt in your mind that Vito will continue to replace you for future performances without any hesitation. She’s all business and no-nonsense, even if it’s at someone else’s expense, collateral damage be damned.

 

You’re going to get that endoscopy, come hell or high water, and you’re going to get it real fucking soon if you can help it. You can’t afford to lose any more opportunities—no, scratch that—you absolutely refuse to lose any more opportunities, be it to Kayla or anyone else. Not after you’ve busted your ass off and endured everything that you have.

 

You absolutely refuse to let Gran lose the house she’s spent the last twenty-seven years of her life in.

 

And therefore, you also refuse to let the night end without knowing one hundred percent that you’ll be getting a Rainbow-Approved Card.

 

Thinking about it really makes you sick to your stomach, but you have to bring your A-game to that mansion party, no matter how uncomfortable or anxious the prospect is making you. It’s the only way you can pay for your endoscopy and any other medical procedures you may need, and it’s the only way you can make sure Gran won’t lose her house.

 

As much as you hate the thought of what you’re about to do and the things you might have to engage in, you hate the realities of your current situations infinitely more.

 

You desperately need to get both your lives out of the slums and back on track as quickly as possible, and right now, the Rainbow Service is the only thing that’s going to help you do that. It probably—more like, sure as hell—won’t be the proudest couple of hours you’re going to spend of your life, but when it comes down to it, your pride isn’t worth that much in the real, practical world right now.

 

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