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The Narcissist

Page 2

by Octavia Grant

“You’re here, and I’m here. I’m ready to talk whenever you are,” she offered soothingly. She didn’t want Myla to feel cornered, pressured, or attacked. Her professional expertise told her that feeling cornered, pressured, and attacked may have been a part of Myla’s problem.

“You’re right. I guess the only way to heal is to stop stalling and simply discuss how I went from doctor to patient,” Myla sighed.

“Whenever you’re ready, please begin,” Eunice said as she sat back and prepared to hear a story that she knew would be out of this world.

Myla blew out an exasperated breath before speaking.

“Here’s what happened after the devil came into my life.”

1

New Year’s Eve, December 31, 2025

“Good morning!”

Myla looked up from her stack of notes to her office door and smiled when she saw her best friend, Miranda, standing there. The smile that she wore was bright enough to light up the entire room.

“Oh my God, Miranda! What are you doing here?” Myla asked as she got up to greet her friend.

Any person who didn’t know them would probably assume by Myla’s large smile and the way she stood to greet her friend that the two women hadn’t seen each other in years. The two women, affectionately dubbed M&M, had literally seen each other seventy-two hours ago. Normally, they’d see each other every day.

“Heaven and I are just getting back from Louisiana. I am so damn tired,” Miranda yawned as she plopped down in one of the plush high-back chairs in Myla’s office.

“Girl, it’s 9 a.m. Check-out isn’t until noon. You could’ve still been asleep. Why did you leave so early, and how was the swimming match?” Myla asked.

“I know when Heaven was younger, I hated the idea of you teaching her how to swim. I’m glad your hardheaded ass didn’t listen to me when I said not to teach her. I’m so grateful that you taught her. My girl was like a fish in the water. My baby came in first place!” Miranda screamed proudly as she pulled her phone out to show Myla the videos she took. Her heart was filled with so much pride.

When she became a mom at eighteen years old, Miranda had no idea how she would raise a child. She was still a kid herself. The thought of being a teen mom, having to drop out of school, and possibly not being able to provide for her child terrified her. Her mother demanded she get an abortion, but Miranda refused. Her mother kicked her out, and Myla’s parents took her in.

Myla’s parents raised Heaven as if she were their child. They provided her with the best of the best socially, academically, and athletically. Now seventeen years later, her child was making her proud in every way imaginable. Miranda thanked God every day for her daughter. She couldn’t imagine life without her. Wiping the joyful tears from her eyes, Miranda handed Myla her phone.

“Look at my baby!” Myla exclaimed proudly as she watched Heaven swim as if she were born in water.

Her eyes filled with tears. She had personally taught Heaven to swim in the pool in her own backyard, watched her splash around in the ocean on family vacations, but to see her compete on a scale this grand filled her heart with a level of pride that couldn’t be measured.

“I really hate that I couldn’t make it to her first Division 1 swim meet. We have been practicing this for years, and I really feel like I let her down by not coming to something so important.”

“Dr. Pleasant, please rest your nerves. Heaven and I know that you would be there if you could. We know your workload is heavy. But Heaven did say she wanted the Louis Vuitton Capucines Mini as an ‘I’m sorry I missed your first swim meet’ gift.” Miranda smirked.

Myla shook her head and laughed.

“I swear she’s the only seventeen-year-old that I know who’ll ask for Louis Vuitton like it’s no more than a piece of gum. That purse isn’t big enough to carry half the shit that she normally lugs around. But because I feel bad about missing her first swim meet, I’ve already ordered it. It’ll be delivered next Monday,” she said truthfully.

Though Myla had ordered what Heaven had been hinting at for months, she was sickened by the price of the mini purse. $7,500 for a purse was robbery. Myla owned several Louis Vuitton purses. As well as several other designer brands. But none of the items she owned were priced over $2,000 apiece. Myla wanted to be angry, but she knew she couldn’t blame anyone, except herself, for Heaven’s expensive taste.

She tried to justify her spending by telling herself that Heaven deserved it for being a straight-A student, athlete, math tutor, volunteer, and all-around amazing kid. But truth be told, even though Heaven was all those things, Myla had created a monster. Heaven was spoiled and expected everyone to open their wallets for her when she asked. She had no regard for other people’s finances.

Myla sighed. She knew she would have to find a way to put an end to this type of behavior.

“I saw that little roll of the eye. You and your parents created that High Price Fashionista. Not me. She knows the only thing she can expect from me is a Steve Madden bag from TJ Maxx. And if I’m feeling generous, I’ll get her something from Coach.” Miranda laughed.

She was a firm believer that you should never start someone with something you didn’t intend on finishing. Though she made a hefty salary working as a High-Net-Worth Concierge, she refused to blow her hard-earned money on material items. Heaven never tried her bank account because Miranda made it known that she was not the one to play with.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Myla blurted, ready to change the subject. “I recall asking you more than one question. It’s after 9 a.m. That means you left NOLA, like 1 or 2 in the morning. Why did you get on the road so early?” Myla asked like a stern parent.

Though this was the first swimming tournament that Heaven had to travel to, it wasn’t the first tournament that she had ever attended. She had learned to swim at four years old and had started partaking in competitions at ten. Myla knew that Miranda never sent Heaven to school the Monday after a weekend swimming competition, so there was no need for them to rush back home.

“Damn, Piggy, why are you in my business? Are you my Bestie or my mama?” Miranda asked while referring to Myla by her childhood nickname. She knew Myla hated the name; it was a throwback to when she was a little plumper. Miranda was hoping that using the nickname would distract Myla enough to change the subject.