which sometimes she had.
She had swum in that sensory sparkling before in her life. In college, in the years after. The episodes always felt like a streak of luck. Like she was finally in touch with the world. Like a skin had been peeled back and now she could see life’s flex, its flesh. Looking back, she could see now that it was strange to forget to eat for two days while working on an essay, or to stay up until four a.m. organizing spices. But her social circle prized erratic behavior. Every party she went to, people were boasting about juice fasts and Marie Kondo-ing. It was easy to chalk her triumphant moods up to caffeine, astrology, her new spin class, and uncouple them from the darker periods, the fatigue and indifference that so readily slid their arms around her. So the winter episode wasn’t Kate’s first manic episode. Just the first one anyone called by that name. The worst one, and the best one, and the first time it ruined her life.
“One time I stayed at the office all night,” she said. “I didn’t sleep at all. My coworkers came in the next day and one of them realized I was wearing the same clothes as the day before. I had to make up some lie. Then I started thinking I was having these breakthroughs—I thought there were codes hidden in the stories I was being sent, and that I needed to crack them. That was when stuff started getting bad, because people noticed something was wrong. I started missing deadlines. My desk was a mess. Some of my coworkers were still acting like dicks, but some others were worried, I think, or at least they said something to HR. But HR was terrified of me because they were already trying to avoid a lawsuit about the Leonard stuff. Maybe someone would have helped me somehow, but then the depression hit, and I stopped going to work at all. I didn’t even leave the house. I think everyone was probably relieved when they had a real excuse to fire me.”
That voice mail, like someone was reading off a script. In accordance with our absenteeism policy, and pursuant upon our previous emails to this effect, we are terminating your employment …
“They called me. I never even replied. I couldn’t. I didn’t even leave the house. I wasn’t eating anything. Finally my friend Natasha called my mom, who came and picked me up and took me back to their house and then to the doctor. Otherwise I don’t know where I would be.
“People throw it around so casually. ‘Oh, she’s so bipolar.’ Like it’s nothing. Or like you’re totally unhinged. But neither one is right. It destroyed me. But it also is me. And”—she heard her tone grow defensive—“I could have told you earlier, but I didn’t know how. And it was managed. It is managed.”
Theo had been silent, barely even moving, but now he cleared his throat. “You didn’t have to tell me any earlier.”
“I should have. Your mother…”
“You aren’t the same as my mother,” he said.
He sounded so sure, and Kate would have argued, except that she wanted so badly for him to be right.
“I have panic attacks,” he said. “I almost failed out of college because I was smoking so much weed just to get through the day. We all have things.”
“I’m sure you handled it better.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know. I bet you turned yourself in.”
“Turned myself in?”
“I mean asked for help.”
“No,” he said mildly. “My girlfriend dragged me to the counseling center. Then I was so grateful for her help I ended up marrying her and having two kids before I was thirty. Not that I regret Jem and Oscar, obviously. But it was stupid, objectively. Gratitude is a dumb reason to stay with someone.”
“It’s not dumb,” she said. “I understand.”
“You don’t want to make a run for it?”
He was joking and not joking. He would deny it if she pressed, but she heard the thread of insecurity in his voice. Which didn’t make sense. Obviously he could do better than her.
“Not yet,” she said, her tone light. “I’m too tired to run.”
She had to tell him about the diary. About searching the house. The secret felt like an animal wriggling between them, pressing them apart. But she was the only one who could feel it.
She laid her fingers on his collarbone, and he turned his head and smiled. As their eyes met, a shock rippled