She called me Tasha

A white lady knocked on Camille's door today. Right in the middle of the fit. She ran a model thing a long time ago. She said my old name out loud. Tasha. Like it still fit.

Camille went quiet. Her face went flat. I kept working. I had to.

The lady reached for my wrist. I pulled back fast. It left a red mark. She said she had a client who would love me. She said you've changed on her way out. Like I was the bad one.

In the kitchen after, Camille said I should have just taken her card. I said she does not get to rename me. My voice was steady. My hands were not.

On the F train home I opened my old model contract. The runway part. I took a photo of it on my phone. I did not delete it.

I do not know why I kept it. I know why. I am not ready to write why.