The Movement

Chapter Two - Part 3

************

 Troy awoke the next morning earlier than usual. He slid over his bedroom window curtains and peered through the salty glass. His mother was rushing in and out of the front door to the back of the minivan, carrying a suitcase and loading it on top of the others. Confused, but not particularly interested, Troy headed to the bathroom to take his morning shower. He heard his mother pound on the bathroom door, yelling through the woodwork and over the hissing showerhead.

“TROY! Hurry up! We need to leave a little early this morning!” shouted Joyce.

“Yes, momma!” screamed Troy over the commotion, unintentionally gulping hot water with the reply.

After drying off and quickly dressing for the school day, Troy grabbed an apple and slung his book bag over his shoulder, heading out the front door to the driveway where his mother was waiting in the idling minivan. Troy opened the side door and climbed inside.

“Momma, where are we going so early?” he asked, puzzled.

“I just need to run to grandma’s house to help her with some things, that’s all,” she said.


“Where does grandma live again? In Sacramento?” said Troy.

“Yes, Troy! Very good! We haven’t been there in months, I need to run by and check in on her, help her around the house,” said Joyce.

“Can I come with you to help?” asked Troy.

“No, son. You need to go to school and learn all you can, so you can grow up to be a well-established young man who won’t worry about the petty things in life. If you study hard and work hard, you’ll be the richest man in America by the time you’re my age,” she said.

Troy looked down at his apple and took a large bite. He and his mother remained silent the rest of the short way to the school until arriving in the parking lot out front.

“Son, always remember that I love you dearly. Now go study hard and use that smart brain of yours!” she encouraged her son.

“I love you too, momma. I will study hard, I always do,” replied Troy with honesty.

Troy’s mother leaned over and hugged her son tightly for several seconds, knowing she would not see him for an extended period of time. She had never spent more than one day away from Troy, and knew this move would be emotionally tough on her, and probably more so on Troy.

“Okay momma. Love you. Tell grandma I said hello,” said Troy as he released himself from his mother’s tight hug to open the minivan door.

“I love you too, son. I will do that for you. Goodbye, Troy,” said Joyce softly, fighting back her tears.

Troy leapt out of the side door and headed into the school building. Joyce could not stand to watch her son walk away for perhaps the last time. She drove off quickly, tears flowing down her face.