Not on the list

I said it out loud today.

Ines came in with racks of clothes. Pretty things. Old, soft things. She had a list. Numbers on paper. My name was not on it. I was in the room and I was not on the list.

I asked why. She said she did not know. Marcus put his coffee down. I felt my face get hot. Old me would have smiled. Old me would have said okay.

But I did not.

I said the girl in the picture is me. I said the clothes are being made for a body I have lived in for twenty-six years. I said it in the voice I practice in the mirror when no one is home.

Ines crossed the name out. She wrote mine in.

I keep thinking about my mom's salon. The way she says sit down baby. The way she sees me. Not the shape of me. Me.

I want to cry but I will not. Not yet. I am too busy trying to believe I just did that.