Disclaimer: The Loud House and associated characters belong to Nickelodeon and Chris Savino.
When Love Speaks
By Lola Presents
Chapter 3
Lola entered her room and slammed the door behind her. Furious with her parents, she momentarily paced the floor between her closet and Lana's bed, balling her fists.
"Ugh!" she cried. "Can things possibly get any worse?"
Stopping near the wall by her bed, she looked up at the assortment of headshots and photographs taken over the years. She stared at them intensely, attempting to recall happier times. Though, for all her efforts, only Lincoln came to mind. She looked past the images of herself and saw what her heart wanted her to see.
She stared at one of the framed stills and remembered what Lincoln was wearing that day. Lola recalled his furrowed brow as he styled her hair, teasing it just right. He had two hairclips protruding from the corner of his mouth, which made her chuckle. Slowly, she reached out and touched the image as if to caress Lincoln. But he wasn't there.
Her gaze dropped to her nightstand, and she opened the drawer. There, lying inside, was her copy of The Bossy Twins. It was the first book she read after Lincoln helped her learn how to read. She felt a lump form in her throat, making swallowing difficult. She couldn't remember being happier than she was when with her brother.
Only then did she realize that pageantry was never her true love. Instead, it was merely a vehicle by which she could pursue it, Lincoln. Withdrawing the book and holding it close to her chest, she felt the now familiar sting of hurt broiling in her gut. With all she had, Lola tried to ward off the tears. She knew it would never stop if she gave in. Nonetheless, they came unimpeded.
Throwing her Venetian closet doors open, she collapsed onto a pile of her old stuffed animals. They had been a considerable comfort to Lola in years past. And even though the idea was silly now, she needed to escape. Eagerly snatching up Mister Sprinkles and Eunice, she began weeping silently, her face contorted quite unattractively. After a moment, she reached out and slid the closet door shut.
Lana came through their door soon after, muttering to herself.
"Thanks a lot, Lola! As if I didn't have anything else to do, now I have to keep an eye on you!" she exclaimed, scanning the room for her twin.
Lola wasn't in bed, nor at her vanity. Quickly, she peered underneath the beds. Nope. No sister.
"Lola?" she queried.
It was then that she heard a quiet but annoying whine. Lana checked their alarm clock. Sometimes, the dial got stuck between stations, and if the alarm went off, all they'd hear was static or noise. In this case, the clock was silent.
Closing her eyes, she listened. Lana was a good listener, having stood still in the woods searching for critters for many years. Eventually, she zeroed in on the source; their closet. Pulling the doors open, she saw Lola nestled within the stuffed animals.
Lola was leaning against the back of the closet, her legs pulled up and her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. Lana's twin was slowly rocking back and forth, tears flowing and making an awful whimper.
Falling to her knees, she addressed her sister. "Lola? Are you alright?"
"No," Lola said through labored breaths. "My entire body hurts. I need to see Lincoln!"
"No can do, sis," stated Lana. "I'm sorry, but those are the rules."
Lola didn't know what caused it. Maybe it was triggered by Lana's denial, or possibly just the cumulative effect of everything that happened. Whatever the cause, her fingers and toes began to go numb. Slowly, she looked at her hands in confusion.
Lola shook them vigorously to try and rid herself of the sensation, to no avail. The feeling continued up her arms and legs, and she began to panic. Her breathing became increasingly labored, and her breaths began to sound like she was gargling mouthwash.
Lana squinted her eyes in concern.
"You don't look so good, Lols," she observed. "You're losing your color!"
Lola looked up at her sister in despair.
"Help," she whispered hoarsely before slumping over.
Lana didn't hesitate to bolt from the room. With no time to waste on the stairs, she slid down the banister and burst into her parent's room.
"Mom! Dad! There's something wrong with Lola!" the terrified girl screeched. "I don't think she's breathing!"
Within seconds, Rita was at her daughter's side. With years of medical training under her belt, she quickly assessed the situation. Having spent her time pursuing a dental degree mandated a certain number of underlying therapeutic classes, so she was quite capable of such things.
Rita checked Lola's heart rate, blood pressure, and breathing. Coming to a preliminary diagnosis, she pulled out her phone and dialed emergency services.
"Hello?" she spoke into the device. "Yes, this is Mrs. Loud at 1216 Franklin Avenue. My twelve-year-old daughter is having an acute anxiety attack and has gone into respiratory distress!"
By this time, Lisa and Lily had appeared in the doorway, with faces white as sheets. Lola was known for the dramatic, but it always turned out to be an act. This time it was something different and far worse. They feared for their sister's life and clung to each other for support.
Lincoln, too, heard the commotion and opened his door, only to face the back of Lucy's head.
"What's going on?" he demanded.
Lucy turned to face him, as well as block his way.
"I'm sorry, Lincoln, but something is wrong with Lola. I'm not sure what, though," she told her brother. "There's an ambulance coming, so we should know shortly. It's probably best if you stay here for now. You'd only get in the way."
"Fuck that," shot Lincoln and pushed his way past her and into Lola's room.
There, he saw a sight he never wanted to see. Lola lay prone on a pile of stuffed animals, foam coming from her mouth and unmoving.
"NO!" he screamed, running over to her with the intent of cradling her.
Rita strong-armed her son, disallowing contact.
"Lincoln!" she bellowed. "Don't move her! The medics are on the way."
Just then, they heard the sirens outside their house. Though it seemed like an eternity, a moment passed before the front door opened, and Lynn ran upstairs with the medics. Everyone instinctively stood aside as they worked.
They duplicated Rita's assessment and finished using a suction device to clear Lola's airway of spittle. Soon, they strapped her to a stretcher and carried her outside. The family followed them to the door, watching as they whisked her away.
After getting the details from her parents, Lori called her remaining sisters and appraised them of the situation. Each was nestled in bed or getting ready when they received the call. However, the shock of Lori's news brought them to full wakefulness, and they rushed to the hospital as fast as they could.
"Everyone into the van!" instructed Lynn before turning to Lincoln. "Except you, son. I know this is a lot to ask, but I think you would do well staying here. I'm fairly certain this is related to your relationship with her. If you come, it could make things worse." When Lincoln prepared to defy his father again, Lynn preempted the move. "Please, son? For her sake?"
Lincoln pulled back and nodded.
"Alright, dad. I will," he said emotionally. "But, can you leave my phone so I can stay up to date on what's happening?"
Reluctantly, Lynn handed over Lincoln's phone.
"Very well. Thank you, son." He then said his goodbyes and headed for the family van.
Lincoln closed the door only after they had disappeared down the road.
Lola's experience was altogether different. After pleading with Lana for help, she blacked out. She had no concept of time, but eventually, her eyes cracked. Everything was a blur, and she couldn't focus well. Lola was sure she was looking at a man and a woman dressed in blue.
Who were they, and why were they in her closet? She felt cold, so cold and tired. What she needed was rest. Her lids shut once more, only to reopen to bright lights and the sensation of motion. Wait, are they the same people from her closet?
"What are they putting on my face?" she wondered. "Never mind, it probably isn't essential."
She then closed her eyes once more and slept.
With no framework to judge the passage of time, Lola arose confused. She lay in a strange bed and had slipped into a slightly uncomfortable position. Pushing herself into a better stance, Lola took stock of her surroundings. There was a counter, some medical devices, a couple of chairs, and a man dressed in white, who was currently taking notes on something.
She furrowed her brow. Something was itching her chest. She looked down to reveal that somebody had replaced her pageant dress with the tackiest gown she'd ever seen. Lifting it, she saw several small circles stuck to her chest, with wires coming out of them. Looking up at the man, she tried to speak.
"Wuth dith?" she said, muffled by the mask upon her face.
"Oh!" the man gasped as he turned to face her. "You're awake. Hang on a moment, miss."
Lola watched as the man studied the monitors briefly before turning off a switch and removing her mask.
"Don't worry," he told her. "These wires monitor your vital signs, and the mask helps you breathe." He explained as he pulled up a chair and sat down. "Tell me, how do you feel?"
"Like shit," Lola said without hesitation.
The man retrieved a pen-like device from his pocket and clicked a button, emitting a small beam of light.
"Follow the light, please," the doctor instructed, moving the device before her.
He moved it up and down and side to side. Satisfied, he put it away.
"Well, do you know why you're here?" he inquired.
"Not really," said Lola. "All I remember is seeing some people in blue, a white light, and then I was here."
"I see. Well, miss Loud," he said, "you had an acute anxiety attack, which triggered some fairly serious respiratory distress."
"In English, please?" Lola asked him, looking at him oddly.
"You had a panic attack and passed out," the man said, correcting his description for the young girl.
"Can I get out of here now?" Lola whined. "I want to go home."
"Not just yet," the man replied. "Your family is here, waiting to see you. But first, there's a nice lady I need you to talk with." He patted her leg and stood up. "I'll be back later. Oh, and my name is Dr. Roberts." He finished before leaving the room.
Several moments passed, leaving Lola to her thoughts, and her memory began to return.
"Lincoln," she thought sadly. "How guilty must he feel?"
She would have to tell him that her condition wasn't his fault. But how? They got explicitly separated.
Just then, the door opened, and a woman walked through. She was somewhat stout, though not overly so. She had a round little face with a big smile, and her short brown hair bounced when she walked. In all honesty, the lady reminded Lola of that horrible Dumbridge woman from the Gary Porter novels.
"Hello, dear," the woman said, her voice laced with saccharine. "My name is Michelle Winters, and I'm with the D.S.S."
Yup. There it was. This woman was not to be trusted. Lola was going to have to lie through her teeth on this one.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"Oh, I just want to talk," the woman said. "If that's okay."
"And if it's not, will you go away?" Lola spat.
"I'm sorry, but I can't do that," the woman replied. "You see, when a minor comes in under emotional distress, it's our policy to interview them. If you want me to leave, you'll have to answer some questions first."
"Fuck..." Lola thought as she leaned into her bed.
It's been ten seconds, and Lola already hated Mrs. Winters with a passion. Still, she wanted to go home. To do that, Lola had to give her something believable without giving away the truth. Begrudgingly, she nodded.
"Tell me, miss Loud, what triggered your anxiety?" Michelle asked.
"Not much for subtlety, is she?" thought Lola. "Well, alright, here it goes," she added before reflecting on her childhood practice of deceit.
"My parents," Lola muttered. "They told me I couldn't see my b-boyfriend anymore."
Lola's emotions were in turmoil, and she almost said "brother" rather than "boyfriend," which wouldn't have gone down well. This interview was going to be more difficult than Lola realized, and she soon started to sweat.
"I see," came the response as the woman scribbled something on paper. "And why did they do that?"
"Truth, Lola, but only enough," Lola thought as she looked down at her lap.
"They said it was because he was too old for me," Lola told the lady, wishing the interview would end.
Lola had endured much over the years. Long pageants and even longer hours under the lights, for example. But never in her time had she become so uncomfortable so quickly. She always maintained proper poise and composure. However, she could feel herself losing it.
"And how old is he?" Mrs. Winters asked politely.
"He's seventeen," Lola replied, "ma'am."
Lola added the last bit to seem more cooperative and prayed her effort would work. Telling half-truths was a gamble, but what choice did she have?
"And you, dear?" was the next question.
"Twelve," Lola replied. "Almost thirteen."
The woman put her clipboard into her lap, along with her pen.
"Alright then, miss Loud, perhaps you'd like to tell me about him? What's he like? Does he mistreat you in any way?" the annoying woman asked.
That last bit took Lola by surprise. So far, the lady had interrogated her rapid-fire. But this latest set of questions was different. Her voice was softer and more inviting.
"Don't lose it, Lola," the hospitalized girl thought. "It has to be a trick to win your confidence. Remember, just the bare essentials."
"Well, he's smart, kind, attentive, and thoughtful," Lola informed her. "He works hard and goes out of his way to make sure, uh, make sure his sisters have everything they need. We've been together, sort of, for six years. At first, it was more like we were best friends." Lola shrugged. "I guess that somewhere over the years, it turned into something more. He made me the happiest girl in the entire world."
"Very well, I shall leave you now and speak to your parents," the social told Lola, nodding. "After that, I'm sure they'll want to see you. Hold tight, dear."
Lola nodded and watched the plump woman exit the room. Now, it was just a waiting game. The question was, how much longer could she wait?
"Mr. and Mrs. Loud, I presume?" Mrs. Winters asked as she walked up to Lynn and Rita.
Lynn came to attention and stepped away from the wall he was leaning against while Rita stood up from her seat.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied anxiously. "Can we help you?"
"Possibly," she replied. "My name is Michelle Winters. I'm from the D.S.S., and I just finished interviewing Lola. A few questions remain, however. I expect you'll cooperate?"
"Yes, of course," agreed Rita. "Anything for our baby."
"Alright, then. How well do you know this boy that Lola is involved with?" she said, bringing her clipboard back out.
Lynn didn't know what Lola had told her and what she hadn't, but from the sound of it, she never even mentioned his name. Perhaps Lola was smart enough to fudge the truth.
"Well, we've known him his whole life," answered Lynn. "He's a good guy."
"May I ask why you decided to separate them?" Mrs. Winters asked.
"Well, we felt he was… a little old for her," Rita interjected.
Rita despised lying but wasn't about to risk losing her son, even if she was furious at him. Protecting him was the least she could do after slapping him.
"And how long would you say they were together?" Michelle asked.
Lynn and Rita looked at each in a way only couples who've been married for decades could.
"I'd say about six years," replied Lynn.
"However, we weren't aware of how serious it became until recently," added Rita.
Satisfied, Mrs. Winters placed her clipboard back into her large satchel.
"Alright, here is my assessment," the interviewer announced. "As you're well aware, nobody over eighteen may start a relationship with a minor, especially if there is a difference of five years in age or more," she informed them before a slight pause.
"However, there are provisions within the statutes that allow for an ongoing relationship that started beforehand," the woman continued. "Considering their length of time together, I see no reason for concern, despite the borderline age difference."
"Thank you, Mrs. Winters," Rita muttered while shaking her hand. "We'll keep that in mind."
The Loud siblings gathered around their parents as the woman walked off.
"Mom, why didn't you say anything about him being our brother?" whispered Luan forcefully.
"Sh!" Rita demanded. "That's a family issue; we'll handle it like a family. All they'd do is take him away or commit him. He'd never get help in jail or an institution."
"I'm sorry, but visiting hours are over," interjected a young orderly as he approached them. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."
"If it's alright, we need five more minutes," pleaded Lynn. "We haven't even gotten to see her yet."
Behind them, something grabbed the orderly's attention. Peering around the concerned family, he witnessed Lily wandering into Lola's room.
"Very well. Five minutes, that's it," the orderly replied before walking away.
Lynn and Rita approached the room and heard Lola talking with her little sister. When his wife tried to enter, Lynn blocked her and put his finger to his mouth.
"Just listen," he requested.
"Oh, hey there, Lily!" cooed Lola. "How are you?"
"I'm fine," the seven-year-old replied, one year older than when Lola began falling for Lincoln, and Lola smiled at the thought.
"Are you broken?" asked the youngster, very confused as to why her sister was lying on a hospital gurney.
"No, I'm well," she told her sister, laughing regardless. "I just have a boo-boo on my heart."
"Because you're in love with Lincoln?" Lily pondered, trying to understand how a show of love put Lola in the hospital.
"That's right," chirped Lola.
"But love isn't supposed to hurt," Lily stated plainly, cocking her head to one side. "Mom and Dad love me, but it doesn't hurt me. Why did it hurt you?"
"Lily, it isn't the love that hurts," Lola responded, pulling Lily onto the bed. "What hurts is not being able to pursue it. Mom and Dad think I'm not ready for it or something."
Of course, Lola wasn't about to explain incest to a seven-year-old and tactfully left that part out.
"Lola? Remember when I was little," Lily asked. "And how I loved to paint?
"Yes, quite well," Lola chuckled. "You'd finger-paint all over the walls."
"And then, Mom took them from me and said I wasn't ready," Lily continued. "But then, I got older, and she gave them back."
"What does that have to do with me, though?" Lola said with intrigue, giving Lily her full attention.
"I loved painting but couldn't have it yet," Lily explained. "I could've cried about it and nearly died, like you. But I'd never get to paint if I died. So I waited instead."
"Awe…" cooed Lola. "Come here, you." She embraced Lily in a tight hug.
Out of the mouths of babes was the saying. Was it not?
"Alright, one quick goodbye, then we have to go," Lynn announced, walking into the room as Lola and Lily wrapped up their private moment.
The bunch filed into the room, hugged Lola and told her farewell for the night, and left with a flurry of waves.
"Dad?" asked Lucy, tugging at his sweater just before they exited.
"Yes, Luce?" he said, starting to feel the effects of the day.
He was tired and hungry and just wanted to go home, but he gave Lucy his attention regardless.
"If we can't be here with her, she might get lonely," she stated. "What if she takes a downward spiral? The only one she'd trust enough to confide in is Lincoln. Please, Dad? Return her phone?"
Lynn looked at Rita, then back at Lucy, then at Lola lying solemnly on her bed. Nodding, he walked back into the room and tossed it onto her lap.
"Hey, princess," he said. "I thought you might need this."
"Seriously, Dad?" Lola gasped, her eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.
"Yes," he replied. "Just don't stay up all night talking to him. Get some sleep, young lady!"