How to Change Your Name

By Jayelle Seeley

1. Get Engaged
   • Go to the court with your fiancé the day before your wedding.
     • Fill out the marriage license application.
       • Get to the line where you are asked what last name you’d like to take.
       • Freeze.
       • Say, “I’ve never even written my first name next to yours. I haven’t even said the combination out loud.”
       • He says, “You don’t have to take my last name if you don’t want. Or you can hyphenate.”
       • “I always planned to change my last name when I got married, so I guess I’ll just take yours.”
       • Cry.
         • Ask yourself, “What is wrong with me?”
   • Get married.
     • Get harassed for the next six months because your voicemail and Facebook still say, “Jayelle Marie Seeley.”
       • Change your last name on Facebook.
       • Re-record your voicemail so that it just says, “Jayelle.”
   • Complain to your new husband.
     • I’ll have to take an entire day off.
     • I’ll have to go to the Social Security office which means driving downtown which I HATE.
     • I’ll have to park on the street which I HATE.
     • I’ll have to go to the DMV and get a new license which I HATE.
     • I’ll have to change my name on everything I own which I will HATE.
   • Quit your job, the one you hate.
     • Drive downtown.
       • Park in the lot.
       • Walk toward the building.
         • Entrance closed.
         • Walk around to the side.
       • Sit and wait.
       • “Congratulations, Mrs. Johnson.”
     • Spend an hour on your makeup before you go to the DMV.
       • The man at the door sees you holding an envelope in your left hand which hosts a big sparkly ring.
         • “Name change?”
         • “How did you know?”
         • “Congratulations.”
         • Smile demurely, “Thank you.”
       • Take the best damn license photo of your entire life.

2. Leave Your Husband.
   • Use your middle name as your last name on all your social media.
   • Two years later, the divorce decree arrives.
     • Don’t read it.
       • Too painful.
   • Every time you’re asked for your legal last name:
     • Say it in a low tone.
     • Mumble it like a child who was just forced to apologize.
   • Wait another two years.
     • Maybe I’ll just change my last name to Marie!
     • Maybe I’ll make it Jayelle 2.0!
     • Maybe I’ll be Jayelle The Magnificent!
     • Maybe I’ll use a last name from a random generator!
   • Get a job at a school where all the students need to call you “Ms. Johnson.”
     • Lose that job.
   • Get accepted into a master’s degree program.
     • “He has nothing to do with me earning my master’s. I have to ditch his last name.”
     • No other brilliant ideas come your way
     • Decide to take back your maiden name.
   • Hear all the horror stories about expensive name changes.
   • Assume there was nothing in your divorce paperwork that would allow you to resume your prior name.
   • Print out a document using online software to change your name with The Supreme Court.
     • Fee of $210
     • Alerting the papers.
       • This seems extreme.
   • Call your lawyer friend.
     • “Just go down to City Hall with your divorce decree!”
     • “I didn’t think the divorce included that.”
     • “It’s a standard provision.”
     • Finally read your decree.
       • “Oh.”
   • Drive downtown on a Monday morning.
     • Find street parking near City Hall.
       • Line up the side mirror with the other car’s side mirror.
       • Cut it hard.
       • Mirror lines up with bumper.
       • Start turning the wheel back.
         • Hit the curb.
           • “Fuck.”
     • Find a different spot.
       • Feed the meter for two hours.
     • Walk to City Hall.
       • “I don’t know if I’m in the right place but I need to change my name because of divorce.”
         • “You’re in the wrong place, go to the court.”
     • Walk to the Court Building.
       • Get through security.
       • No one asks where you are going.
       • Look blankly at a sign.
       • Do a lap around the first floor.
       • Climb the staircase to the clerk’s office.
         • “You already have it written into your decree. All you have to do is go to the social security office.”
       • You could walk to the federal building but you’re sure your parking time will expire before you’re done there.
       • Walk back to your car an hour early.
     • Park by Café Kubal on Water Street because you remember that was right next to the lot where you parked for the federal building.
       • Pay for two hours.
     • Remember the entrance is not at the front.
       • Walk to the side.
         • Entrance closed.
         • Follow the signs.
         • Go around back.
         • Follow more signs.
         • Entrance here.
           • Look over and notice your parked car.
             • Realize that you did a lap around the entire building.
     • Check in with Security.
       • “What are you here for?”
       • “Social security.”
       • “It’s going to be a long wait.”
       • “Well, I’m here.”
       • Take a number.
       • Wonder if you will run out of parking time.
     • C435
       • “I need your divorce decree.”
       • “This is from April?”
       • “Yes, April of 2016.”
       • “I was being indecisive.”
       • “I’ve never been in that situation before so I don’t judge.”
     • “Here you are MIZZ Seeley. You’ll get your new card in two weeks.”
       • “That’s it?”
       • “That’s it!”
     • Look down at the receipt
       • Jayelle Marie Seeley.
         • Notice that it has been over four years since a new piece of paper has been handed to you with that name.
           • Feel unexpectedly elated.
   • Realize you have another hour before your parking time expires.
   • Every time you pass someone:
     • Smile broadly.
     • “Good morning!”
   • Get a scoop of vanilla raspberry swirl ice cream topped with hot fudge.
     • Take off your sandals.
     • Roll up your pants.
     • Stick your bare feet into the fountain at Clinton Square.
     • Kick your feet back and forth with childish glee, splashing water.
   • Wait at the DMV for two hours.
     • “Sign here.”
     • “1 2 3”
     • “You look pretty.”
     • $12.50
       • “That’s it?”
       • “That’s it!”

BIO

Jayelle Seeley has called Syracuse, NY, home for the past 8 years. She is currently studying for her master’s degree mental health counseling. This is her first published piece.