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Reeling in the Years	By : Flagg1991 Category: +G through L > The Loud House Views: 5080 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Loud House or its characters and I am not profiting from this story in any way.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
Lyrics to Surfin' by The Beach Boys (1961)
6:30am
In the hazy twilight world between sleep and awake, Lori Loud held her baby in her arms and gazed upon its face with a beaming smile. For some inexplicable reason, she couldn't make out its features, but its eyes were big and brown just like Bobby's, and Lori couldn't look away from them even if she wanted to.
A long, low creeeeeak made her wince, and the vision dissipated like morning fog. No, don't go...the warm cocoon of happiness that her mind had spun in the night fell away, and her eyes fluttered open: White winter sunshine filtered through the window, falling across her face and stinging her tired orbs. She muttered something that may have been a borderline curse and rolled over, reaching out for Bobby but touching only cold, empty bed. Confusion shot across her mind, then, as the sleep drained from her, she remembered: It was Friday, and on Thursday nights Bobby slept at his house.
When they first married, Mom and Dad offered to let them live in the Loud house until they saved up enough money to get a place of their own, but Bobby didn't want to leave his family entirely. He felt bad about moving out and leaving his mother to pay all the bills alone, so he helped out where he could. Lori could understand that, but at the same time, they had to worry about their own lives and their baby. It wasn't so bad, though. He talked to his boss and his boss bumped him up to a supervisor position: He worked from 9 to 5 now and made two dollars more an hour. It was a union job, and he had paid vacation and health insurance. Technically, they had money for an apartment now, but her mother and all her sisters wanted her to stay home until she had the baby. Something told her that it would turn into staying until she was "healed" or something so that they could have easy access to him or her. Doting aunts and grandma and all.
Part of her wanted to stay, but another part wanted her own space. She was hormonal and she and Bobby had had it out a few times. Are you going to live with your mother forever? Are you going to pay everything there and nothing here? She knew that wasn't fair – he made good money and he paid for most of her expenses – but sometimes she worried.
Sighing now, she rolled onto her other side: A rush of nausea went through her as the baby slid from one side of her stomach to the other and then kicked as if to say Keep it down out there! Though she felt like puking, she smiled and placed her hand on her stomach: She could feel his or her foot through her flesh. It was strange but exhilarating. She pinched his-or-her heel, and he-or-she pulled quickly away, which made her laugh. "Soon," she said, rubbing her belly, "you're going to get to meet your mommy and daddy. And your grandparents. And all your aunts and uncles." The baby kicked as if in excitement. "Yeah," she cooed, "that is pretty neat, huh?"
She glanced over at Leni's bed and saw that she wasn't there. The creak of the door must have been what woke her. She tried to sit up, but rolled like a turtle on its back, which was funny and sad at the same time. When she finally got it, she sat on the edge of the bed for a moment to catch her breath, her legs spread apart and her stomach filling the world. God, she was big as a house.
Taking a deep breath, she got to her feet, putting her hand in the small of her back, which ached like heck. In the hall, Lincoln was standing by the bathroom door in his underwear, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. It was a teacher conference day so the schools were closed, but he volunteered to pick Lynn up from the airport, which meant he didn't get to sleep in. Why he offered was beyond her.
He opened his eyes when she came out; they were red and hazy. "Hey," he muttered.
"Hey," she said, "do you mind if I cut in front of you? I reaaaally have to pee."
Nod. "Yeah. Sure."
One thing about being pregnant and having a full bladder: Baby kicks the wrong way...and you fill your underwear with urine. It had happened twice in the last two months, once when she and Bobby were in public. It was literally the most embarrassed she had ever been; walking back to the car with a big, dark wet patch on the crotch of her dress, she wept openly, and Bobby put his arm around her shoulder. "Hey, it happens," he said, but she cried harder because pregnancy hormones.
Presently, she leaned against the wall next to Lincoln, and the baby kicked hard, its foot jamming into her stomach. "Oof," she said, and put her hand to her belly: Baby's foot was right there, she pushed it, and it went away, only to reappear elsewhere...closer to Lincoln. "I think the baby wants to say good morning to Uncle Lincoln."
Lincoln turned and blinked the sleep from his eyes. "Where is she?"
"We don't know what it is, Linc," Lori said, "and you don't see the foot poking through my dress?" Lincoln was sure that the baby would be a girl. If it was, her name would be either Maria after Bobby's grandmother or Patricia after Lori's. If it was a boy, it would be Roberto Jr.
Lincoln leaned in and scanned her stomach, finding the protrusion and poking it with his finger, his tired face breaking out in a grin. "Hey, Maria, how's it going?"
"Don't call it that," Lori said more sharply than she meant, and Lincoln recoiled. "Sorry – but I don't want you messing with its head in case it's a boy."
"Sor-rry," Lincoln said.
The door opened, and Lori was mildly surprised to see Luna instead of Leni. "Hey, Lori," she said with half-lidded eyes. "How's Bobby Jr. doing?"
Lori rolled her eyes. "Don't call it Bobby Jr..."
"Oh, sorry," Luna said, and came over. She put her hands on Lori's stomach; the older girl jumped and giggled. "I forgot, you're all formal and stuff. How's Roberto Junior?" She rubbed Lori's stomach like a genie lamp.
"Stop! That tickles!"
"It's your aunt Luna, little man," Luna cooed, "you coming out of there soon so we can rock?"
"Two weeks," Lori said, pushing past Luna, "you have to wait two weeks."
She was originally due on December 17 – yesterday – but they bumped her up to December 31. They apparently had no idea when he was coming.
He?
Darn it. Now Luna had her calling the baby a boy.
In the bathroom, she pulled her underwear down to her knees, hiked her dress up, and sat, gasping as the cold toilet seat touched her butt. The baby felt her tense, and whished across her stomach. "Calm down, little one," she said, "you're going to knock mommy over."
Even though her bladder was bursting, she couldn't go at first, and had to wait, and wait, and wait. Finally, it came out, and she sighed with relief. She wiped, flushed, and washed her hands. In the hall, Lincoln was jumping from one foot to the other. "Sorry," she said sheepishly, "it took longer than I expected."
"That's fine," he said quickly, "just let me through."
She stepped aside, and he streaked into the bathroom like a comet, slamming the door behind him. In her room, she sat on the edge of her bed and patted her stomach. She was hungry...which meant going down the stairs. She could go down fine (though she was terrified of falling and hurting the baby), but coming back up was a grueling death march on par with Bataan: She had to stop and hold fast to the railing to catch her breath at least twice – three times on a bad day.
Baby Santiago needed his or her breakfast, though, so mommy had to suck it up. She started to stand, but the door opened and Leni came in with a tray. "Morning!" she chirped. "I made you breakfast."
"Good, I'm starving," Lori said as Leni sat the tray on the bed. Eggs, toast, pancakes, and a glass of orange juice. Lori licked her lips and looked up at her sister. "Thank you."
Leni kissed the tip of her nose. "You're welcome." She dropped to her knees and laid her palms flat on Lori's stomach. "Morning, baby! It's auntie Leni. I brought you food." The baby showed it appreciation with a big kick that made Lori's whole stomach bounce. Leni giggled. "He or she's happy!"
"And very active," Lori said and picked up a piece of toast. Over the past few days, the baby had done nothing but move, dance, kick, shake, and swish around like a goldfish in a bowl.
Leni patted Lori's stomach then got up and dropped onto her own bed. "He or she is getting ready to come out." She beamed and balled her hands to her chest. "This is so exciting! Uh...I hope I'm finished with his or her coming home outfit." Her shining eyes suddenly clouded with worry. "I better get started. I'm almost done."
Leni had spent the past nine months making baby clothes. There were shorts, pants, shirts, little sweaters, two dresses, socks, a jacket, knit caps, gloves, and a scarf. Most of them were in neutral colors. The dresses, however, were pink.
As Lori ate, Leni went over to her vanity and sat. She opened a drawer, pulled out her needles and yarn, and then the nearly-finished onesie. She didn't want Lori to see it until she was done, but Lori caught a flash of green and red.
Her hormones kicked it, and tears welled in her eyes. She loved her family so much – and when she moved out, she was going to miss them.
8:00am
Lincoln climbed behind the wheel of the Packard, pulled the door closed, and started the engine: It coughed, wheezed, and backfired. Lincoln winced and shook his head. One of these days, this old lemon was going to break down, and knowing his luck, it would probably be today...in Detroit...on the highway. He almost regretted offering to pick Lynn up, but it was worth it in the end, because Ronnie Anne was coming with him, and he liked driving with Ronnie Anne. They had only done it a few times because Dad wasn't too keen on lending the Packard out, but those few times were nice: Just him, her, the radio, and open road ahead. He couldn't wait until he had his own car.
Glancing behind him, he backed into the street and started toward Ronnie Anne's. When his house was out of sight, he lit a cigarette and rolled down the window, cold air rushing in and stinging his face. It was overcast and slushy patches of snow covered the ground: Along the sides of the road it was black and gritty. The weathermen were calling for more tonight; there was even talk of a white Christmas. He turned the radio on, and settled for a station playing a morning newscast.
Ten minutes after setting out, he pulled up in front of Ronnie Anne's house and beeped the horn. The door opened and she came out in a purple skirt and a yellow pullover sweater under a heavy jacket two times too big. She hurried across the lawn, her boots splashing in the muck, and slipped into the car. "Hey," he said.
"Hey, square-for-brains," she grinned, and they kissed. While she buckled up, Lincoln pulled into her driveway and then backed out, the rear tires spinning in the mud: For a horrible second he thought they were going to get stuck. "You got a cigarette?" she asked.
Lincoln reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his pack, which he tossed into her lap. She pulled one out, lit it, and rolled down the window. "You wanna know how much you mean to me, lame-o?"
Lincoln glanced at her. "Sure."
"I got out of bed at six this morning just to hang out with you."
He chuckled. "You didn't have to get up that early."
She shrugged. "I had Bobby wake me up before he left for work."
"He went in that early?"
"It's called overtime."
He nodded. "Cool."
Outside town, snow covered farmland fell away from the highway. Weathered wooden power poles marched along the gravel shoulder, and, in the distance, red barns, white houses, and tall grain silos rose against the gray sky. Ronnie Anne laid her hand on Lincoln's leg and watched the world flash by in silence. He took her hand in his and threaded his fingers through hers, driving one handed. "You work today?" she asked.
"Yep," he said. "You know Flip. Fat old slave driver. You?"
"No," she sighed, "I'm off until Saturday."
"Off?" Lincoln asked playfully, "what does that mean?"
He had been working at Flip's for seven months, and aside from Sundays, he was never off. Well, he had his birthday off, but that's only because Ronnie Anne went behind his back and begged Flip to give them both off. It occurred to Lincoln to ask, but he didn't like doing that. He wanted to be a reliable employee that Flip could count on; he was all too aware that dishwashers are a dime a dozen, even if they know how to prep. That was partly the reason he had Ernie teach him to run the grill.
He was happy to spend his birthday with the girl he loved, though, and it was a birthday to remember. They didn't go all the way, but she touched him the way she did that night back in May, and when she was done, he touched her: There was something about kissing her neck as she shook with climax that Lincoln found irresistible; a part of him wanted to do it every day, but another part wanted to do it only occasionally so that it would be special. Since July, they had only touched each other once.
"It's when you don't have to deal with Flip or dirty, nasty dishes."
Lincoln snickered. "Sounds nice." He shook another cigarette out and lit it. Ronnie Anne held out her hand, and he gave her the pack. "I'm so overloaded on Flip I hear his voice in my sleep."
"I had a dream he married my mom," Ronnie Anne said, and giggled.
"Seriously?"
She nodded. "Yeah. It was more like a nightmare."
"I'll say."
"All he did was sit in an armchair and drink beer."
Lincoln furrowed his brow. "Does he even drink?"
"I don't know," she shrugged. "He did in my nightmare."
Lincoln squeezed her hand. "Well, that's all it was. I doubt your mom would want Flip. She can do a lot better."
Ahead, the road crossed a wide, icy river. A milk truck was parked along the shoulder, the milkman nowhere in sight.
Sighing, Ronnie Anne brought the Camel to her lips and inhaled. "If she'd date. I've been trying to get her to go out with someone for a year now. She doesn't want to."
That struck Lincoln as strange. He imagined that if his mother was single, he wouldn't want her dating anybody. He wouldn't stop her (maybe), but he sure as hell wouldn't encourage her. What if the guy turned out to be bad news? He said as much, and Ronnie Anne spread her hands. "She's gotta be lonely. I mean, it's been seven years since my dad left."
He couldn't argue there. "I guess."
"Bobby's leaving when Lori has the baby, and one day I'm going to move out, and...you know...she's going to be lonely. I don't want her to be lonely."
The seriousness in her tone made Lincoln frown. He squeezed her hand. "Maybe she wants to be alone."
"Seems that way," she sighed. "I dunno. I just feel kind of bad for her."
After that, neither of them talked for a while. A newsbreak came on the radio, followed by a song about surfing, which he knew about through Lynn, who always wanted to try it:
I got up this mornin' turned on my radio
I was checkin' on the surfin' scene
To see if I would go
And when the DJ tells me that the surfin' is fine
That's when I know my baby and I will have a good time.
He glanced at the barren, snowy pasture bordering the highway: The juxtaposition between what he was hearing and what he was seeing made his head spin. Surfing, huh? Where? Lake Michigan? Sorry, boys, it's closed for the winter.
Next to him, Ronnie Anne snorted. "Wanna go surfing, Linc?"
"Yeah," Lincoln said, taking a drag and blowing it out, "I'm just dying to get hypothermia."
She giggled. "It's gotta be warm somewhere."
He glanced at the gas gauge. "I didn't bring enough money to get us to wherever that is."
"I bet it's warm in Arizona."
"Lynn likes it," he said. Lynn called twice a week like clockwork: Mondays and Fridays. Everyone took turns talking to him, and by the time it was all said and done, he'd been on the phone two hours –three if he was feeling homesick, which, Mom said, he did from time to time. He probably wouldn't want anyone to know, but Lincoln couldn't blame him: Arizona was a long way from home. ""It gets really hot in the summer, though."
"That's how it goes," Ronnie Anne said. "It's either really hot in the summer or really cold in the winter. There is no in-between."
Twenty minutes later, they reached the outskirts of Detroit. Lincoln had never driven in the city before, and all the cars on the road made him nervous. He took out a folded piece of paper with directions on it and handed it to Ronnie Anne. "You get to navigate," he said.
"Oh, lucky me."
Once they left the turnpike, a right and a left brought them to the airport, which was laid out along the Detroit River like a medieval fortress. Across the icy expanse, Lincoln could see Canada: Houses and barren trees lined the shore. He saw a seafoam green Chevy (he couldn't tell if it was a '57 or a '58) and what might have been someone shoveling snow.
Lincoln pulled to a stop outside the main terminal and cut the engine. People streamed in and out through a big set of double doors. He checked his watch, saw that it was half past nine, and nodded. Lynn's plane should have landed ten minutes ago, which meant he should be along any minute.
"You ever think about travelling?" Ronnie Anne asked as she watched the crowds come and go.
"Sometimes," he said. Call him crazy, but he kind of wanted to visit the Soviet Union, just to see what it was like: It was a shadowed land of mystery behind an iron curtain, and from the way everyone talked, everything over there was so vastly different from the way they were in the states that it might as well be Mars or something.
He said as much, and Ronnie Anne shook her head. "You're crazy, lame-o. They'd put you in jail and never let you out."
"Why?" he asked. "I wouldn't do anything wrong."
"Not being a commie freak is wrong to them."
Lincoln started to reply that she was right (I guess), but stopped when Lynn came through the doors. He was wearing a pair of khaki pants and a blue and gold letterman jacket with the University of Arizona crest over the heart and held a single bag. He glanced around, and Lincoln beeped the horn. Lynn saw, grinned, and came over. When he stuck his head in the passenger window, his smile faltered – but just for a second. "Well, well, well, it's my baby brother and his little girlfriend. I expected Dad."
"You got us," Lincoln said. Ronnie Anne leaned forward and brought the seat with her. Lynn slipped in and fell onto the back seat, crushing her against the dashboard.
"Watch it, asshole," she said.
"Zip it, Lincoln's girlfriend."
She glanced over her shoulder. "I have a name."
"So do I, and it's not 'asshole.'"
She rolled her eyes and turned away. Lincoln threw the car into drive and pulled away from the curb, spinning the wheel to avoid a hunk of black snow. "Did Lori pop while I was in the air?" Lynn asked.
"Nope," Lincoln said, "she looks like she's going to any day, though. She's bigger than she was at Thanksgiving."
Lynn snickered. "Really? I think you're full of it."
"Alright," Lincoln said, "just wait. You'll see."
"She is pretty big," Ronnie Anne grinned. "She was so skinny before, now" – she puffed her cheeks and held her arms out in front of her stomach.
Lincoln laughed. "God, if she saw you doing that she'd kill all of us – you for doing it and me and Lynn for seeing it."
"I didn't see anything," Lynn said. "I'm just trying to get home. You two kids can play your little games , just leave me out of it."
Lincoln glanced in the rearview mirror. "Lynn...shut up."
- 16
- 17
- 18
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Reeling in the Years