“You all right?” “Yes, yes. But I’d like to speak with her right away,” Wright said. “Will you please escort me to a telephone?” “Absolutely.” Mose stirred himself and climbed into the same clothes he’d been wearing for a few days. He was a mess. As soon as he passed a mirror, and there are loads of them on a movie set, his dignity would take a deep dive. He’d sprinkled booze on himself like it was aftershave—his final touch for last night’s performance—so he smelled pretty ripe, too. My favorite time of year, autumn. Bright sky. Sun falling on my shoulders as easily as feathers. A flock of small birds, moving like the ocean, in a wave to the south. A few buzzards, catching the thermals. They would return with their bird-friends next March. No reason to feel so relaxed, but I did. Maybe gratitude for being surrounded with so much vibrant life. All three of us walked to Goulding’s office. Like my grandfather, Wright looked like a train wreck. And then it hit me.
