Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: New Adult Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

Chapter Seven

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Madame Vito finally makes her appearance, and the room quickly goes quiet. She doesn't say a thing, but then again, she doesn't need to.

Her stern presence and the clicking of her signature moccasins are all that's necessary to make all the chatter fade away into dead silence. The room gets so quiet you could probably hear a snowflake land.

Vito's graying locks are pulled back into a tight bun as usual, and she's covered up in a dark cardigan and an equally dark, conservative pencil skirt with leggings underneath like always. Her wardrobe knows no distinction between the seasons. She dresses the same all year round.

I'm not a huge fan of hers, mostly because of her rigidness and cold demeanor, and while I can't imagine living my life by a lot of her rules, I can respect her approach to education—as strict and conservative as it is.

Trixie barely tolerates "the uptight hag", as she calls her, but does her best not to butt heads with any professors, especially not Vito. Trixie may be headstrong and outspoken, but she's not stupid. She wouldn't be careless about getting on this woman's bad side, not when her grades and future as a classical vocalist are at stake.

We don't waste any time in taking our positions, arranging ourselves in semi-circles according to our various segments and vocal groups. Vito faces our entourage, and with her back to the wall of mirrors holds her hand up in a balled fist signaling that we're starting. She does three silent counts with her fingers, motioning for us to begin.

As lead, I start out humming the melody of the song's intro by myself, and go on to sing the first stanza of the first verse as well. Kayla Daniels and Julianne both join me in the second stanza as the two other first-part vocalists. Trixie and the second-parters sing their way in next, and then eventually the bass-vocalists merge with everyone as we all round up the first verse. All our voices fuse together perfectly, and from Vito's acknowledging expression, we're doing a good job. She actually seems impressed.

And, boy, is it hard to impress this woman.

We continue our harmonized a cappella in synchrony and with precision, and I can hear the waves of our enthusiastic voices bouncing off the walls and echoing loudly in the spacious room.

I try to keep focused, even though the thought of my stomach hitching again ails me. The bridge comes up again, and I brace myself for it, instinctively balling my hands into tight fists until I feel my knuckles go sore.

Please don't act up again. Please don't act up again. Please don't act up again...

I keep repeating the silent prayer, imploring my stomach to behave itself as I hold a high note for several seconds. Before I know it, the bridge is over and the song is soon coming to an end. And there are no signs of a hitch in sight.

Phew.

Thank goodness.

The vocal groups start to exit in the reverse order they came in. The heavy undertones and background rumbles dissipate as the bass vocalists fade out first. The intermediates follow right after, and then Kayla and Julianne's voices softly linger until they eventually disappear, leaving me to finish the last verse and hum the ending melody by myself once again.

Out of the blue, my body jerks almost violently, as if I just had a hippo-sized hiccup.

It's back again.

Fuck.

I place my hand on my chest against the rising pain, even though the action provides no relief to the discomfort. I try to open my mouth to finish the song, but only a hoarse utterance escapes my lips.