14 years - Axl Rose x OC

10

-May 15th, 1977

What a day it will be for Lita Monroe!

The morning started off early: 5:30, get up and get ready in a green dress. The fabric pulled a little at her waist, but Lita couldn't tell, for the anxiety had gotten to her.

Perhaps this wasn't as good of an idea as she thought it was a month ago. Perhaps this would embarrass them both rather than show Bill her love.

The green, satiny dress lifted as she slowly made her way down the stairs, gently pulling on a sweater in a darker shade of green.

"Morning," she rushed through the kitchen, grabbing a slice of sourdough and pushing it into the toaster.

"Morning to you as well," came the whispering of her mother, who sat solemnly in a dining room chair. Her mother would be driving Lita to the event later, but plans woke them both up earlier than expected.

The clock struck in the hall, a sign of the new hour, and Lita sat down at the table next to her mom. The bread in front of her, sprawled with a few slabs of butter and Nutella, was cut into smaller pieces and stacked to make small sandwiches.

"I don't know how you can eat that," mom said.

"It's an acquired taste..." Lita answered, now stuffing her mouth full of the bread.

After finishing her last bite, Lita asked, "Mom, let's say, theoretically, that I wanted to go somewhere with someone...a friend from school...would that be ok?"

"What friend from school?" Mom raised an eyebrow at this.

"Well, you know, Bill...from next door."

"And where would you be going?" Came mom's answer, still questioning Lita, unable to see any situation where letting her daughter go somewhere alone with a boy would be acceptable.

"Well, mom...for Valentine's Day, Bill got me these tickets to that concert I was talking about—in Indianapolis; and I would go with him. I'm being sincere, by the way, bringing him. And don't get started on your 'well would it just be the two of you alone together,' because you know the answer is yes, but I really want to do this with him. It's about a month away, but I thought to ask now, you know, for permission."

The answer to her question was clear from the look on mom's face: the blank stare she knew well, meaning that, in absolutely no way, would Lita be doing this.

But she still held a hopeful look, smiling and flitting her eyes open and batting her lashes.

Still, that did not stop the look on mom's face from growing larger by the second.

"No," mom said abruptly.

"Please, I'm pleading with you," she spoke, clasping her hands together.

"We're not having this conversation now." And her mother stood up abruptly, walked out of the kitchen, and down the hall to the bathroom.

She'd have to gradually work up the courage to ask again sometime soon, the concert date was approaching quickly, but for now Lita slipped on the black Mary Janes by the door before following her mother's footsteps to the bathroom. There, she watched the woman apply a subtle hint of blush and some flamingo-colored lipstick, the silvery scratches on its worn-out tube, signs of excessive use, glimmered in the overheard light. Noticing her in the mirror, her mother turned around, and, smiling and tucking a lock of her own light brown hair, she moved Lita to stand in front of her, applying the same precision to her daughter's face as she did her own.

Sweet moments like this made Lita regret ever speaking ill of her mother, the woman who brought her into this world. Whenever they'd argue, Lita would leave the conversation with a pitted stomach of guilt. How could she say anything that heinous to someone who'd done everything for her? Lita pondered this while her mother, in a limited, uncommon moment, brushed mascara onto her lashes.