the primary differences
From day one, she never saw herself as an Elisabeth. The name hung off of her like an ill-fitting suit, too big in some places and too small in others. If given a chance, she would have gone for something more unconventional - a Stella or a Lola, maybe. At six, she wanted to be Barbie. At nine, Sabrina (after the teenage witch, not the Audrey Hepburn movie). Elisabeth had too many letters, too much going on. Busy never liked clutter. She'd always kept a clean space, nothing in her life went without placement - organization was the lifeblood for Elisabeth Frye.
But the main reason for not identifying herself as Elisabeth was simply that it never felt truly appropriate for her. It was a far nicer name than she was a nice girl. Elisabeth Frye wouldn’t have the vocabulary of a well-educated sailor, she’d probably have the light and airy voice of a Disney princess or something. Elisabeth wouldn’t smoke weed in the upstairs bathroom in order to be able to just tolerate a silent Sunday supper with her father, a tradition he insisted upon - one of the many things in her life he felt the need to insist upon. Elisabeth woukdn’t prefer anal to any other type of penetration and certainly wouldn’t let a guy do it on the first date. She’d probably look at Busy trolling craigslist for threesomes as a sign that she didn’t love herself, that she need to take time and reflect on her actions, because Elisabeth Frye has no interest in being seen as a sexualized person. Elisabeth Frye is a good daughter, a loyal friend, a great conversationalist - but Busy Frye does not want to be that person.
To Busy, Elisabeth was a name she felt she could not live up to. It felt heavy, like a burden.
identification
Being curious came as second nature to Elisabeth Frye. Like breathing, it wasn’t something she had to learn to do no. THe first word she ever emitted as a quiet “why?” that she repeated over and over again, her voice growing in confidence and volume over time She would certainly be the first person to call herself a gossip. The eighteen year legal education that was being raised by her father taught her to accept gossip as hearsay but she really did love getting both sides of the story and relished in this knowledge. The same question asked over and over - why? - stuck with her. She continued to ask. Continued to pry. Elisabeth was never the best at forging real and solid relationships. Superficiality came easy to her, it wasn’t as if she didn’t want them. She just didn’t know how. The only thing she did know was to always ask questions. Always be inquiring. You can’t be ignorant if you’re always trying to learn more. Applying this mentality to the relationships she has currently is harder than she thought.
But at eight months old, she was just asking a simple question - why? At a year old, she had a few more questions to ask. And it continued as such until her mother, tired of being interrupted by her two year old daughter, told her, “you’re such a busybody.” Always sticking her nose where it didn’t belong and trying to cut to the juicy core, her mother had provided her with the name that she would keep for a lifetime, because it was true - she was a busybody. She was a vibrating electric source of life, and she wanted to share this life.
an alternative reality, spring 2018
“Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie, can’t you see? Sometimes your ass just hypnotizes me.”
”Can you please not?” Elisabeth “Liz” Frye feels the instinct to roll her eyes, instead staring at her husband, this man she’s chosen to spend the rest of her life with, wondering how she found herself here in this position and sometimes, even how she would murder him and not get caught. She never thought this would be her life. She hoped she’d be able to get out of South Carolina but, much like her mother had when she’d decided not to divorce her father, she’d gotten wrapped up in something much bigger than her.
“You’re never any fun.”
“I’m stressed out, and y’all are just sitting around, watching whatever sports are on today, while I’m trying to put our Easter dinner together, Kevin! Can I get some help?”
“If a man belonged in the kitchen, Lizzie, you would make more money than I do. I provide for the family all week, the least you can do is make sure there’s dinner on the table.”
“We’ve got the kids -”
“Yeah, and yet you have a nanny. What are you whining about, you stupid bitch? You do nothing all day. Just do what you have to as a wife, don’t be useless like you always are. I keep a roof on your head and you sit around eating bonbons all day.”
“... I definitely do-” She’s cut off quickly with a slap.
“Don’t you ever talk back to me again, Lizzie. I can take everything away. Leave you and those two bastards you claim are my children when they could be anyone’s, you’re such a slut, leave you on the street. Do you want that?”
“... No.”
“That’s what I thought. Are we going to have any more problems?”