By the Book

by Amanda Sellet

They used to talk about a young woman being “accomplished,” which meant she could do all the ladylike things: singing, drawing, dancing, pouring tea. Maybe speak a smattering of pretty foreign words, learned from a governess since girls didn’t get a formal education. Nowadays the list of things you’re supposed to master is a lot longer. Be pretty! And smart! And sporty! They call it being well-rounded, but sometimes it feels like they’re saying the same thing as in the olden days: Pretend to be perfect in every way!

Mom took a meditative sip of tea. “You know, Mary, there is no version of this story where you don’t make mistakes.” “What story?” I rubbed my forehead to smooth the lines I could feel forming. I’d probably wake up with gray hair, too. “My first dance, you mean?” “Your life,” she corrected. “It’s the nature of existence. To err is human. We screw up, and then screw up some more.” “But I don’t like being in the wrong.” I jabbed a hand at my midsection. “This is the worst feeling in the world. I hate it.” Dad’s warm hand landed on the back of my head. I took a deep breath before continuing. “I tried really hard not to do all the dumb things you’re not supposed to do, and I still messed everything up. It’s not fair.” “We all have to face our fallibility at some point,” Mom said. “If we didn’t, it would be too easy to turn into sociopaths.” Dad cleared his throat, their private shorthand for take it down a notch. She took a deep breath before continuing. “Remorse forces us to take a hard look at ourselves. It gives us the strength to grow, and the courage to do the right thing next time—or at least try.