Another Reason to Cry

Prologue

Present

Alise knocks on the door in anticipation, biting her lower lip to force a smile away. Her attempt is futile, as she grins brightly when the door opens and the dark-haired, smiling woman envelops her in a hug.

"Oh, Alise! I missed you!" The older woman exclaims, squeezing her daughter tight. Alise reciprocates the hug with as much energy, rocking from side to side and causing her mother to laugh lightly in joy.  

"You saw me last week!" Alise shrieks as her mother squeezes her even tighter. Soon, she gasps exaggeratedly so her mother will stop. The woman only squeezes the girl tighter.

"Mom, y-you're crushing me!" Alise utters finally, causing the woman to let go with a pout.

"Oh, I'm sorry, chica. I just missed you so much," she renders, stepping aside to allow her daughter into the large home.

Alise shakes her head with a smile. Only her mother would be pouty over such a trivial thing.

"Alise, I have to finish making dinner. How about you put your things away and I'll have Rosa bring a glass of water to you," the older woman reasons, casting small glances toward the awaiting kitchen.

"Sounds good, mom."

Once the older woman leaves the room, Alise hauls her bags up two flights of stairs, to her former bedroom. She huffs as she reaches the threshold, hoisting her bags up, then tossing them onto the full-sized bed.

She slowly begins to unpack, shoving t-shirts and shorts into drawers, and hanging dresses and jackets in the closet.

Rosa brings in a glass of water then leaves, returning to the aid of Alise's mother.

As she hangs up the last item, Alise notices a thick, brown leather book, worn from many years of touches and moving around. Black and white pages hang out of it, as well as pictures stuck in random spots.

Curious, she pulls it down and moves to sit on her bed. Alise lays the book in front of her, noting the title: Collection of Fond Memories. It's a photo album!

Alise opens the cover carefully—its spine is merely strings and a few scraps of leather—and notes the pictures on the first page are of her mother and some guy in a backward ball cap on a bus. The white spot under them is labelled L.A. Buddies in her mother's soft, loopy scrawl.

Alise squints to see the man, but his features are blurred by the movement of the bus. And so, she flips to the next page.

It's a picture from her mother's first photoshoot.

She continues to flip through the pages, noting the fact her mother has met Steven Tyler, Van Halen, Mötley Crüe, Robert Plant, Queen, Alice Cooper (twice), Def Leppard, Bon Jovi, Dee Snider, Warrant, Tesla, Metallica, and many other famous bands and rockstars.

Finally, Alise sees her mother with Guns N Roses. She thinks nothing of it at first, until she turns the page again. The remaining pages are filled with photos of her mother posing alongside a smirking man with long, ginger locks, piercing grey eyes, and pale skin. A few tattoos adorn his arms.

She then pulls out some of the black and white pages and sees the pictures and text are of the same man with his arm around other women, his mouth on theirs, or simply lighting up a cigarette.

Alise furrows her brow in concentration, and she looks through some colourful article clippings her mother had obviously cut from a magazine. On them, the same man—only older—is seen walking down a busy sidewalk, cane in hand, donning a grey shirt with an upside down woman in a trash can displayed, a beanie, sunglasses, and blue jeans patched up with crosses on the inner seams.

Stunned, Alise grabs the photo and a few others, and she dashes down two flights of stairs, nearly tripping. She then sprints into the kitchen, startling her mother and Rosa.

"What are you doing?" Her mother questions as Alise slides to a halt, nearly tripping as she does so.

"Why are you stalking Axl Rose?" Alise asks quickly, shoving the pictures in her mother's face. Her mother's curious eyes become saddened.

"Let me serve dinner and I will tell you everything," her mother insists, filling a plate with empanadas and rice. She then places it on the bar, repeating this action two more times.

Silence fills the kitchen as the women sit down at the bar.

"Okay, tell me. Why do you have so many pictures of Axl Rose?"

"I can't answer your question—"

"Mom, just tell me—," Alise interrupts,

"—with a simple answer because it's not a very simple answer you truly need. You need the entire story. It is very complex," her mother continues, unfazed by her daughter's interruption.

Alise begins to eat slowly as her mother sighs.

"Let's eat before the food gets cold. You can tell your stories then," Rosa suggests, obviously irritated by the other women's lack of digestion.

Finally, after 30 painstaking minutes, Alise finishes her empanadas and looks at her mother expectantly. The older woman beckons Alise to her bedroom, where the photo album still lays on the bed.

The women seat themselves.

"Do you still want to know?" The older woman asks, desperately hoping for a no, but knowing her stubborn daughter won't leave her alone until she receives an answer.

"Mom, please tell me," Alise responds, curiosity bubbling up within her, further causing her impatience.

"Alright, then. I'll tell you. The story starts on the bus into L.A. I met a guy who was travelling to meet a friend of his. He and I, bored, decided to talk about our lives prior to being on the bus. I told him of my strict Hispanic mom, my life in Florida, and many other things. In return, he told me that he was..."