Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

A Better Sister	By : Flagg1991 Category: +G through L > The Loud House Views: 8387 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Loud House, it belongs to Nickelodeon. This was written for fun and not profit.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Revelations, by their very nature, come suddenly and with great force, usually at the oddest of hours. Lori Loud was driving her siblings to school on a warm, sun-kissed early Spring morning, the sounds of laughter, arguing, and annoyed “knock-it-offs” battering her ears when it struck her that soon, all of this would be over; she would graduate, go to college, and her siblings would exist only as voices on a telephone. The realization pierced her like a bullet, and she gasped, her chest suddenly tight. She glanced at Leni in the passenger seat; her eyes were closed and she happily brushed her hair, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. In the rearview mirror, Luna played air drums, Luan talked to her stupid dummy, Lincoln read a comic book, and Lynn gazed out the window, probably wishing she had a ball to kick. In her mind’s eye, each one of them faded from existence until she was alone, their laughter lingering like the smoke of a stubbed cigarette.

She looked back at the road, her grip tightening on the wheel. She took a deep breath, but her lungs would not expand against the terrible weight now pressing against her chest. This was it. Childhood’s end. In two months, she would finish high school and after that, she would fade the way her brother and sisters had in her mind.

She imagined that this must be how one feels as they lie in their deathbed, their ascent into eternity drawing closer and closer with each labored breath. So much left undone. So much left unsaid. Was she a good sister? Did she lay a solid foundation on which her relationship with the others could grow? Did she do the right things? Say the right things?

Was she a good big sister?

Searching her memories, she frantically came to the realization that she hadn’t. She loved her siblings and she tried to be there for them, but there were times when she isolated herself from them, times when she used them, manipulated them, made them do her chores in exchange for rides, acted petty, childish. One time she sabotaged Leni’s driving test because she was afraid the others wouldn’t need her for anything if Leni could drive. At the time, she told herself that she simply liked being needed. Now, she realized that she needed to be needed, and giving rides was the only reason anyone would need her. What else could she do for them? What else had she ever done? She sighed, she rolled her eyes, she took advantage of them, she pushed them around. She was a terrible bitch.

You’re being too hard on yourself, a voice said from the middle of her head. Was she? Maybe. Everyone makes mistakes, right? It’s human nature to fuck up now and then. But...had she done enough? Had she done enough for them, and herself? Time had gotten away from her. If she knew she was so close to the edge, she would have worked harder, given more hugs, made more of an effort to be there, to offer advice, to help with homework and chores.

Now it was too late.

Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked them away. You must be about to start your period, she thought to herself in a futile effort to make herself smile, knowing full well that she’d just finished last week. This wasn’t hormones, this was the realization that comes to overworked fathers who wake up one morning and find a teenager where their toddler should be. This was the realization that comes to newly-widowed wives who hadn’t looked at their husbands for more than ten seconds at a time in forty years. It was the simple realization that it was gone, all gone, and you barely even knew you had it.

Jesus Christ, knock it off!

She was trembling when she pulled to the curb of the school. Everyone got out, saying goodbye to each other, and all she could do was watch them, her chest aching and her eyes watering. The van was so quiet now, so empty, so cold.

Just like her.

She drew a heavy breath, threw the van into drive, and started home; it was a senior-teacher workday, so she had all day to herself, all day to sit in a big, deserted house and ruminate on what she could have done differently, how she could have been better, how she could have been less of a selfish asshole. The prospect made her heart beat and her brow leak. She saw herself walking from room to room, looking at her siblings’ things, their personalities, and realizing that soon she wouldn’t have them. She wouldn’t have Luna’s skull-cracking music, Luan’s silly puns, Lynn’s constant ball throwing, Lincoln’s dopey comic books and action figures, Lana’s toads and Lola’s flitty, pink fairy stuff. All she would have were memories. She would visit, but it would no longer be inside the circle of sisters (featuring brother): She would be an outsider.

She would have only memories of them.

And they would have only memories of her.

She would have good memories of them. Would they have good memories of her? Would they think back to the time their big sister Lori did this or that? Would they smile fondly as they recalled the time Lori did x?

Terror filled her as she found herself thinking that they wouldn’t. She had simply been a face in the background, a mysterious and elusive presence behind a door or a screen. She existed in their world like a tree. Not a mighty redwood or a promising sapling, but a run of the mill ordinary old tree, entirely unremarkable, largely useless, there but unnoticed.

Stop this!

She was certain that she was being too hard on herself. There is no such thing as perfection. Regardless, a painter does not reach the end of a canvas and not regret, a writer does not reach the end of a novel and not regret. More could have been painted, more written.

Regret. She was filled with regret.

If only she could do it all over again. If only she could write more.

At home, she sought out a pen and a notepad and sat on her bed. She listed each of her siblings’ names. What did they like? Did she know beyond a rudimentary idea? Luan liked comedy. Okay. Who was her favorite comedian? Lori didn’t know. Luna loved Mick Swagger. She talked about him constantly. Who else did she like? What else did she like? Surely there was more to her than rock and roll. The rock thing was the biggest aspect of her personality, the one that you saw when you looked at her; it was easy to see, but deeper? A sister should know this.

Lori did not.

Lynn was a sports fanatic. What was her favorite sport? What was her favorite team? Like with Luna, there had to be something else there, some passion, some likes, past sports. She wasn’t a one dimensional cartoon character, after all, replete with a flimsy stock personality harried writers called good enough and never developed further. She was a girl, much as Lori had been, with her own hopes, thoughts, aspirations, and dreams.

And Lincoln.... Lori could not say that she loved him more or most, but her love for him was different, unique, as he was the only brother she had. He stood out in the family, and her love for him stood out as well. She suspected that all of her sisters felt that way. Had she ever really shown him how much she cherished him? Oh, sure, she could think of a thousand instances where they bonded briefly or shared a beautiful sibling moment, but time was coming to an end; had she ever articulated her love for him? Did he know that he was special to her? To all of his sisters? Or did he see her as an eye-rolling bitch on wheels? A greedy, selfish ass who only considered, only acknowledged his feelings when led by the nose? She remembered the time she accidentally broke his virtual reality goggles. It was literally his fault for leaving them in the middle of the floor, but she felt terrible, because even though she thought they were stupid, he had so much fun with them. She went out and bought him a new pair, and then later, found a note he had written before he knew she replaced them titled “Why Lori is the Worst Sister Ever” (or something). That made her angry...because it hurt. He automatically assumed that she would just go on as if nothing had happened instead of making it up to him. What made her angriest of all was that maybe he had a reason to assume that. Maybe she was an asshole.

She sighed. She didn’t know. She was a cauldron of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The only thing she could say with any certainty was that she felt she had not been a good big sister.

Her phone buzzed. It was Bobby. “Do you want to do something?” he texted.

Yes, she did. She didn’t care what. Anything to assuage the tempest in her mind.

“Love to :)”
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Better Sister