“Ooh, yes,” I say, “I forgot about naan, oh my God, I haven’t had it in forever! Raita definitely. I’ve never had lime pickle.”

She scoffs. “You have, and you love it. You haven’t had naan in forever?”

“No. Before coming here, I think the last time I had bread was like … I can’t even remember. The only starch I ever do is brown rice, and even that’s rare. I basically have to be about to pass out to have something like that.”

“Sounds like disordered eating to me, if I’m honest. Like Gwyneth Paltrow with her IV of nutrients.”

“Not reall— I mean, sort of. It’s part of the job. It’s not forever. If I get successful enough, I can … well, I mean, I’ll always have to keep it in check.”

“It’s what I’ve never understood about these actresses. They work so hard to get recognition. Then they do. Then they have to stay skinny and beautiful all the time. And if they don’t, then they’re constantly having to defend themselves. That’s no life, in my opinion.”

“You get money.” I shrug. “And you get to be remembered.”

“That’s true. But that’s the rub, isn’t it? I feel like people get famous only so that they can go into hiding and get what they really want, which is simply to have a nice life. I don’t even know if the money matters that much, except that it means you can relax. And what’s the point in having all that money if you can’t have a good pudding whenever you feel like it?”

I open my mouth to speak but find that I have no response. When am I going to really live? I’m withholding carbs from myself like there’s a finish line, when I know there isn’t. She’s also right that celebrities often get famous, then spend their lives trying to go unseen. Is it really all about the money? No, I guess it is the notoriety too. But still, it all feels a little pointless when it’s lined up like that.

I think of my walk earlier, how much I appreciate it after so many years in a chaotic metropolis.

“You don’t have to worry about it tonight, anyway,” she says. “All right, I’m ordering.”

A moment later, she’s on the phone—like speaking to a person. Another thing that never happens in my real life.

When she hangs up, I say, “So, Aimee invited me to Clare’s birthday party tomorrow.”

She lifts her chin dramatically as she says, “Ah, wow. That’s good, isn’t it?”

“I think so. I mean, she said she believed me about the whole … thing, and then she invited me over there. You too.”