He reckons that relationships are about maxing out intimacy ASAP, eliminating secrets. No, he doesn’t tell her about the bipolar or the suicide attempt / transfer, but he’s medicated now, and anyway, he’d rather get to know her. He googles her name, chows down her book recommendations, listens to her music. Charts her PMS to the day. He knows she prefers Cabernet, Pantene, Aleve, Trident, Xiu Xiu, and that whenever she can’t find her hair clip it’s always attached to her purse strap. He develops a ratlike intuition about her frequent puking—when, how much, whether migraine- or alcohol-induced,
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