Victor - Chapter One - Wattpad

Victor

by DiamondAT

Victor

YOU ARE READING

Victor

Fanfiction

Ethiopian literature professor Michael Jackson arrives off the boat from East Africa to the United States - Minnesota, to be exact, to pursue a career for teaching Ethiopian literature at his assigned University. As he has a struggle to find a decent hotel where he was, Michael comes upon a house of two people: a widow and her son. When he meets the young lad, he immediately takes a liking to him, and vice versa. While he stays in the household and Minneapolis for a teaching position at a HBCU, the pair grow closer and closer until an accident turns tragic. As they get closer, questions will come, and answers will be just as damning. Will Michael be able to keep his love? His sweetheart? His Victor?

November, 1992

It was a warm night when Ethiopian professor of African literature, Michael Jackson, arrived off the ship into the United States. With his suitcase in hand, the middle-aged sage tilted his white hat and began to walk to the nearest hotel. He looked around to find someone whom would be kind enough and go out of their way to give him a ride (that really would not take long by vehicle), but no Samaritan would let their anti-Semitic ways go leave their souls. There was not a taxi cab or service of that kind in that nature, so he kept his eyes peeled and his mouth closed.

Michael was scheduled and appointed to speak to the Department of Literature at a certain HBCU, but at this rate, he'd never make it there on time if he couldn't find a place. This would determine if he would get a teaching position in Minnesota at all. While wandering the roads for a hotel, he came across a big, mansion-like house in front of a nearby deli and laundromat. Surprised and happy with his choice of luck, he smiled and walked up the steps to the porch. He knocked on the door and pressed the circular button no larger than a zero, and counted to ten as he patiently waited on the owner of the marvelous abode to answer their front door. When he got to six, the door slowly opened, and a soft voice like silk answered.

"Yes?" And it was a woman. A woman that had to be the same age as him. The woman stuck her head out of the door, and from there, Michael saw the most attractive woman in all of Minnesota. The whole world, even. "Yes, Mister? Is there something you wanted, because I really have to get back to my son now," she stressed, but politely.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you at such a late time, but I need a place to reside before I can find a hotel of some sort tomorrow," he explained. The woman raised an eyebrow before stepping out of the door all the way and closing it behind her back with one hand, the other resting on her hip. He could sense she was getting hostile, but who wouldn't? A complete stranger coming to your door in the middle of the night, asking for a place to stay did sound controversial. He cleared his throat once more. "Allow me to introduce myself, Miss..." he trailed off, unaware of what to name the beauty before him.

"Nelson," she said, nodding her head.

"Yes, Miss Nelson. As I was stating before, Miss Nelson, my name is Michael Jackson, African literature professor from East Africa; Ethiopia, to be exact. You see, I've just arrived in the United States not too long ago, and my journey here has been very tiring, physically and emotionally. I haven't seemed to find a hotel around these parts, but when I found your home, I thought it'd be the perfect place. All I need is one night, Ma'am, and I'll be on my way."

"I--" she started, but was interrupted.

"If there isn't any room, I will leave now and leave you alone, but if there is, would you find it in your heart to allow me to rent a room here? One night is all I ask," he said.

Before she could answer, the door behind her opened, and a boy that had to be no older than sixteen or seventeen came to it. "Mom, who's at," he looked at Michael and allowed his words to get lost in the warm air, gaping at the older man in front of him and his mother, "...the...door...?" He slowly looked Michael over and felt an instant attraction in his heart. He opened his mouth and looked between his mother and Michael. "Uh, hello, Sir. I...uh..." he stopped his eyes at his mother. "Mom, who is this?" he asked, restricting his eyes to look at one person and one person only: his mother. If he had so dared to take another glance at Michael, his eyes may fall out of their sockets.

Miss Nelson looked at her son and smiled small. "Prince, honey, this is Mister Jackson. He is going to be staying with us for a night, okay?" she explained with her son that still stood in the doorway. Michael didn't know whether to scream from excitement, jump for joy, or just die right there on that woman's porch. No, because he still had a scheduled job to do tomorrow, and it determined whether he'd get a job or not, so that last one probably wouldn't be such a good idea. Miss Nelson looked at Michael and smiled a wide smile and placed a hand to her son's back before pulling on his shirt lightly. "Mister Jackson, allow Prince to show you to your room, alright?"

Michael nodded and took his hat off as Miss Nelson and Prince went to the side to get out of his way and let him into the house without much hassle. He brought the suitcase in with him and followed Prince down to what seemed like a basement. Miss Nelson closed the door and went back to the kitchen to finish making dinner, a dish she would have to expand now that she had an extra mouth in the house. No words were exchanged while the two were down in the basement, but inside, Michael was blowing up with comments and remarks about the young man that was with him. Prince was turned around, but Michael didn't care; he looked at every inch of the seventeen-year-old young man, his curiosity growing with each stare and second.

"So, you new here?" Prince asked, throwing a baseball into the glass of silence, and the shatters of awkwardness were loud enough to distract Michael from his wild thoughts about the teenager. Prince turned around and placed hands on his defined hips, shifting his weight to one leg as he sucked in his cheek. Prince raised an eyebrow in his lack of patience with older people and blinked. "Well?" he said, annoyed, and jerked his head forward in the slightest way. He saw Michael smile, making him get curious.

"Yes I am...Prince, is it?" he asked. Prince nodded. "I am from East Africa, a professor for the literature there, and I came to America to pursue a teaching career here. I can't find a hotel around here, so your mother has graciously allowed me to rent this room for the night. አመሰግናታለሁ," he finished. Prince raised both eyebrows in shock and confusion. "It means, 'Thank you' in Amharic, our official language." Prince's face held a small simper as he stood straight and walked to the front of the room.

"Well, Michael from East Africa, of all places, why Minnesota? Why Minneapolis?" He then began to slowly circle around Michael, inwardly laughing when he saw that he was being followed by cocoa eyes. "There's New York, there's Los Angeles, and there's even Timbuktu. But why, why, why would the pretty boy hotshot from the Nile want to come to little ol' Minnesota?" he asked and stopped moving around him to see his reaction. It wasn't what he was expecting, though. He thought Michael would be red from embarrassment from being hounded by a teenager, but instead, his face held a sly smile that was identical to Prince's. "Well, are you gonna answer me, pretty boy?" he taunted. Prince seemed a bit more attractive to Michael as the same for himself.

"You see, young one, I came here to become a master at what I do, okay? For a forty-six-year-old man, I have to say that I have accomplished a lot; faster than many men younger than me, too. I actually think I'm doing quite well for myself. And maybe...you could learn something, Prince." His voice got lower to a whisper as he said his name, one of his perfectly arched eyebrows wiggling seductively.

"Forty-six? You don't look a day over twenty-five. Pfft, middle-aged. Ha!" he sneered. He then started making his way out of the room, but not before arching a glance at the man behind him. "I hope you enjoy your stay and your night here, Michael from East Africa. Dinner will be ready in, I dunno...a few minutes," he carelessly said with a voice set to beleaguer Michael. He looked forward and walked up the stairs, back into the living room. Michael's face still held that smirk and his thoughts clouded his mind; some good, some dirty, but to really get to them and enjoy, he had to keep that young man in his mind and just let his imagination run wild.