“And the second thing?” “When you use people, be good at it.” “T wasn’t trying to use you—” “Yes, Celia, you were. And I’m fine with that. I wouldn’t have a moment’s hesitation in using you. And I wouldn’t expect you to have a second thought about using me. Do you know the difference between the two of us?” “There are a lot of differences between the two of us.” “Do you know the one in particular I’m talking about?” I said. “What is it?” “That I know I use people. I’m fine with the idea of using people. And all of that energy that you spend trying to convince yourself that you’re not using people I spend getting better at it.” “And youre proud of that?” “I’m proud of where it’s gotten me.” “Are you using me? Now?” “If I was, you’d never know.” “That’s why I’m asking.” The guy behind the counter came back with our milk shakes. He appeared to have to give himself a pep talk just to give them to us. “No,” I said to Celia, once he was gone. “No what?” “No, I’m not using you.” “Well, that’s a relief,” Celia said. It struck me as painfully naive, the way she so easily, so readily believed me. I was telling the truth, but still. “Do you know why I’m not using you?” I said. “This should be good,” Celia said as she took a sip of her shake. I laughed, surprised by both the world-weariness in her voice and the speed with which she spoke. Celia would go on to win more Oscars than anybody else in our circle back then. And it was always for intense, dramatic roles. But I always thought she’d be dynamite in a comedy. She was so quick.