Study in Perfect by Sarah Gorham Read Free Book Online Page A

pale.” The noun
gull
referred to “an unfledged bird, especially a gosling.” A young, inexperienced bird, pale and yellow, might be easily deceived. From this comes the word
gullible
.
    Though pale, Sister Paulette was no fledgling bird, sparrow nor goose. Neither was my mother.

    Kindness should override truth.

— SAMUEL BUTLER
    I don’t think my parents ever lied to me. The worst I remember is a kind of imprecision. When asked about the results of my IQ test, my mom responded, “Oh, somewhere between your father’s and mine.” I could tell, in the name of tenderness, she allowed herself a white lie, a clean cloth over a knotty table. I was satisfied with her answer and sat like a sparrow, safe between my parents on the swaying intelligence wire.
    The truth is often too hurtful, terrifying, unpleasant, mundane, or confusing to deal with. It begs embellishment. As aconsequence, in varying degrees, for multiple reasons lying is an essential element of social interaction. Here are four points on a possibly infinite list of examples:
    â€¢ Joni Mitchell doesn’t wear makeup: “Not really. A little blush, concealer, a dash of mascara, a little color on the lips. And that’s it.” Joni wants us to think her beauty is effortless. The
Times
calls this “makeup denial.”
    â€¢ Please do not call them McMansions. They are “luxury estates,” a phrase that conjures up Versailles, Fontainebleau, Kensington Gardens in the dappled, rolling hills of France or England. For a mere $5 or 6 million, you too can be a count, lord or lady, prince or princess from a long line of blue bloods.
    â€¢ The director promises to get you started in the very next play, scheduled for spring. When you don’t sleep with him, the part never materializes; you can’t even get him on the phone.
    â€¢ “I did not have sexual relations with that woman,” said President Clinton. Note his avoidance of the contraction “didn’t,” as well as his reference to “that woman,” formalizing, and distancing himself from Monica Lewinsky. Thousands of teenagers are now “abstaining from sex” by practicing fellatio. This benefits boys in particular, a happy new population of Little Bills.
    A lie is a social tool. We lie to avoid consequences—hurting the feelings of a loved one, embarrassment, failure, impeachment,jail, or sometimes just because it’s easier than relaying the complicated truth. (I borrowed the sweater from my sister who borrowed it from her roommate who bought it at a thrift shop. Or: Thank you. I don’t remember where I got it.) We also lie to get something we want, whether it is a fluffier version of our lackluster selves, a longer vacation, membership in some elite intellectual group, or a house in the Pacific Palisades.
    Even animals will lie. Our hound dog Emma sleeps on the living room couch; it’s her spot, her kingdom. When her sibling Monty hops up there before her, she rushes to the front door to let roll her mellifluous, hound-dog bellow. There is, of course, no intruder. We all know she’s faking, except Monty, who jumps off the couch to join in the fray. Who can blame him? It’s the wolf’s cry, the irresistible bugle call of the hunt. He’s bewitched and falls for it every time. As soon as he lands on all fours, Emma stops barking abruptly and leaps onto the couch before Monty knows what hit him.
    There are some cases where lying is a virtue in the animal kingdom. Consider the nesting plover who spots a predator and immediately begins an elaborate charade of limping, squealing, dragging and dipping of one supposedly broken wing toward an adjacent sand dune and away from her brood. Animals dissemble for many of the same reasons we do. Monty’s hair rises along his spine and he grows two inches taller. A magnificent frigate bird puffs up its scarlet feathers until its throat is bigger than a