Thin Thin Thread - 1. Chapter 1

Three stories of building and shatter-proof windows separated her from the boy in the parking lot, the one walking further and further away to where his car sat. He'd be eighteen tomorrow, her son, her heart and the one to rip out hers.

Annalise chewed the knuckle to her pointing finger as her vision blurred, her free hand going to the glass as Elias waited for a flower delivery van in front of him to pass, then crossed more of the sunlit blacktop. What a man he could have been, how strong and vital... like his father or brother. They chose power and honor and integrity and there was her youngest who visited the least and wore bracelets and dated those she never would have chosen for him. It wasn't her choice, she knew. He had made it clear, and dictating his life path was not what she wanted. She wanted his happiness, she did, but how could she support his search for it in all of the wrong places? Her eyes released tears as she squinted, straining to get a better last glimpse of the straight black hair surrounding his regally structured face, Prada sunglasses covering the boyish brown eyes. The pretty ones with the longest lashes she'd ever seen, the ones everyone had doted over his whole childhood. Maybe they had made him conceited, less likely to consider how his decisions affected the woman who had raised him.

A pain in her stomach nearly doubled her over as he reached a wiry hand to pull open the door to the car his father had spent so much money on. He folded himself into it, all 95 pounds of him with his brightly colored designer slacks, neutral collared shirt and bow tie. She could not hear the car start, but she saw it pull out and felt him drive away.

"Elias..." It came in a whisper so hoarse it hurt her throat and she pulled her wet finger away from her mouth, moving her hand to clutch the oversized white tee shirt draped on her frame.

---

The road was smooth beneath his tires, a weight rivaling the car's on his shoulders. Elias barely glanced in the rear view mirror as the hospital faded out of sight and the freeway opened up to him, beckoning him to take its stretch to freedom, to invisibility, to peace, the same way it always did. He clenched his angular jaw until it ached, and between the tears and sunglasses he could barely see the traffic in front of him.

"Gah." He blinked hard, fingers tensing around the wheel, commanding himself to get it together. This wasn't the first time he'd visited his mother; it wasn't new to have her stare at him like he'd trapped her where she was, telling him how things could have been if he'd only...

Well, he hadn't. And his awareness of how responsible he was for all of the darkness hanging over his family was strong enough to taste with every breath. It urged him to make a break for it down the furthest length of the road in front of him, and it was what drove him right back every time to where he was, wanting to make things right, trying to make her understand he didn't love her less because he wasn't who she wanted him to be, as if trying had ever done anything but exacerbate her mental fragility.

"You think you're helping, and you're not." His brother's words, true enough, except most of the time he didn't think he was helping. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but if he tried nothing, he would hate himself as much as his mother did. He'd rather have her hate on him than his own, though he was learning more than ever the two were not mutually exclusive. Her disdain for him was clear, and it morphed into everything he felt for himself. He flicked his blinker and slid into the next lane, smoothly passing a pair of trucks before getting back over in front of them. It took a while to find a steady pace, a comfortable speed, a smooth pattern of breathing and about as soon as he did, still on the freeway, his cellphone on the passenger seat began to buzz.

Releasing a rough breath, he reached for and answered it with his eyes still ahead. "Hey."

"So you do have your phone on you."

He'd taken it off airplane mode an hour ago and barely winced now. "Yeah, what's up, Dad?"

"Elias, where are you?" It was the man's bemused tone. Not scolding, but neither entertained, definitely exhausted. William McBride was not a man to expend too much energy on things outside his successful law practice. Fuck no, anything but that. But to be fair he did stress and wear himself thin for his sons, no matter how many mistakes he made along the way.

A pang of guilt rippling, Elias swallowed. "On my way home."

"Well... is there a reason you never came home last night?"

"I don't know." He really didn't. He'd gone to the river to sit at the edge of the bank for a while and just hadn't stood again until after dawn. Visiting the last spot Maven had breathed and known life was becoming an unhealthy obsession, but he'd figured maybe a visit to his mother could absolve some of that. Sleep deprivation made him a fucking idiot.

He heard his father's sigh. "You said you're on your way?"

"Be there in a bit."

---

Pinching the bridge of his nose, William hung up his phone and set it on the polished rosewood desk in front of him. He'd learned not to fret sleeplessly all night for Elias a long time ago, but it didn't stop him from waiting with growing anxiety. The boy was at an age where little could be done about his escapades, as much as William as his father wanted to reign him back in, turn him into a bubbly twelve year old again, and indefinitely halt time.

As it was, tomorrow marked his youngest son's first day of legal adulthood. He hadn't really thought of any ways to top the kid's 16th birthday, but there didn't seem much point. Elias was in no state to feign happiness. He used to exude it naturally, but whatever Elias felt, he didn't ignore or hide it. It was always there, his emotions a part of his very blatant style and fashion sense. And he'd never been the same fun-loving kid since everything had gone down with Maven and the final threads of his mother's sanity had come unwound.

William leaned forward, pressing his elbow into the edge of his desk, eyes falling closed. Maybe he should have done more, tried harder, looked for Elias last night. Maybe it was what his son wanted. There was no telling.

Several minutes passed before he straightened up, pulled his hand from his face, and closed the binders and law books he'd had open all morning without perusing. His knees creaked softly as he pushed up from the leather desk chair and he straightened with a grimace, moving out of the office and down the stairs to the large open kitchen. He'd intended to get a glass of orange juice and head outside for a short run, hadn't expected he'd find his older son already at the counter, slapping blueberry cream cheese onto a bagel.

Shirtless and messy-haired, Isaac raised his tired face. "This happening a lot?"

He didn't have to specify. Since the boys' mother had become too unstable to stay home and been moved to the facility where she now resided when she wasn’t at the hospital, Isaac had chosen not to go too far for college, no matter how much William had encouraged him. A sophomore now at the state university, Isaac was home for Spring Break and no less worried for his brother than he'd ever been, however he chose to show it, though it had taken him a while to grant forgiveness after the climax of things.

William took a breath on his way to the fridge. "He's not getting into trouble."

"He's not coming home at night, Dad."

"It's not a regular thing, Isaac." He pulled the pitcher of the juice he'd squeezed the night before and took it to the counter.

His son turned, biting into the bagel. "Kay. Long as you don't care."

He didn't like his son taking things that route, but he wasn't up for an argument. "You have big plans for the day?"

One bare shoulder shrugged. "Going to visit Mom after I eat. Elias been going?"

"I'm not sure."

Isaac didn't respond to that, turned to seal the lid back onto the cream cheese. "Does he talk about her?"

William opened the cabinet and pulled down a glass. "Not much."

"Should I move back here?"

"You still live here, Son."

"You know what I mean."

Yes, and he didn't particularly like it. He did like having his boys nearby, but he wanted them to feel comfortable and free to be away as well, to grow into their own men. He gave his head half a shake as he poured the juice. "We're okay."

"Are you?"

"Nothing is going on that will be resolved if you're here full time, much as you're welcome." And as much as he might be willing, Isaac would at some point resent it. He swallowed a sip of the juice and turned to appraise his son.

Isaac carried the bagels and container back to the fridge, strong jaw bulging as he chewed another bite on his way out of the kitchen.

---

He tore into the rest of the bagel on his way up the stairs, having it down by the time he was across the hall and entering his room, noting Elias' shoes by his dresser. Crazy how he'd never once shared a room with his brother and still found all the boy's crap in his. He stepped over, kicking the stylish loafers across the floor to his personal bathroom before jerking open a drawer, only half unsure where this sudden surge of rage came from. Isaac liked to think of himself as perhaps the sanest among the family, but it wasn't saying much when a glimpse out his fourth story dormitory window made him want to jump so bad home seemed like the better option. Heaven forbid his dad pick up a hint and realize that his wanting to be home had as much to do with him as it did them. The man's incredible brain never did all that well picking up the things Isaac really needed it to.

"Gah." Sucking in a breath, he squared his shoulders, wiped a group of crumbs from his lip and dug out one of the old band tee shirts he'd left home. Tugging it over his buff frame, he barely heard the front door downstairs open and close. It could be Elias getting home, or their father leaving for work. Let it not be said William McBride was a man who shirked his career duties over trials as trivial as familial crises. Hell no, anything but that.

Isaac shed his shorts and pulled on jeans and socks, making a pit stop in the bathroom to relieve himself and put on deodorant, forgoing the cloud of cologne that had been his staple in high school. He slid into shoes on his way down the hall and took the stairs quickly, pulling up a light jacket and keys before passing through the door. He'd lock up, but Elias was pulling into the driveway, his silver 50 thousand dollar Porsche growling its way to a stop. If their father had thought such an extravagant gift was the correct route to make up for holding the boy back freshman year - without mentioning it until the kid's first day back to high school - he'd both won and lost. Elias had been a loyal fan of their father since, but that didn't mean he showed any respect for the man.

Sick to his stomach, Isaac went straight to his own cobalt blue Lexus and climbed in without any sign he'd noticed his brother arriving. Irritation wreaking havoc on his concentration, he haphazardly backed out of the drive and worked to collect himself on the road. He leaned forward to finger punch the radio on, letting a classic rock station reverberate through the vehicle. The last thing he needed was to go in to a visit with his mother while he felt unsteady himself. Leaving her was always difficult enough, and he never quite felt satisfied once the visit ended. Had he said everything he should have, tried hard enough, seen into her to realize what she most needed at that moment? Not that it had ever been possible to assess and decide what would make her happiest at any given moment. It was a sort of silent unanimous assumption that Elias played the biggest part in putting Annalise where she was, but they all knew deep down how little strength the woman had always had for coping with anything difficult. Isaac remembered being a preschooler and the struggle to get his crying squirming toddler brother fed because their mother lied stoically on the couch, eyes glazed over for hours at a time, silent and motionless until Dad got home to get her upstairs and into bed. After years of such episodes being the norm, what did they really expect when Elias had gone off the deep end? It was what made the blame game all so hard. How could they blame the boy when the woman had never been steady to begin with? But how could they not blame him when the boy knew it, and went ahead with everything anyway?

Pulling into the hospital parking lot was always the most nerve-racking part. The moments it took to wonder how the nurse would greet him before he was let into his mother's room. What position the woman would be in when he did enter. He stared ahead through the windshield, holding the steering wheel a minute before cutting the engine, sending up desperately whispered prayers as he pushed out of the car. The trek into the building built the tension and the ride up the elevator made him swallow. By the time it opened, he had his shoulders squared and stepped out with an impressive display of faked confidence, smiling politely to the RN behind the desk. "How is she doing?"

"Hi, Isaac." The man nodded to his mother's door across the hall. "See for yourself."

The single-sided window gave him a glimpse of the fragilely beautiful lady hugging herself, staring out the window at the parking lot. Her eyes looked so lost and so hopeful he ached, gently rapping on the door and letting himself in.

---

The noise broke her from her fixation on the empty parking place not yet filled since Elias left, and she spun so quickly her back hurt a moment. She flinched but moved on quickly, taking quick steps to frame Isaac's face in her ever-shrinking hands. "You." It came in a whisper, still hoarse.

His eyes held hers, the solid brown he shared with his father, so gentle and kind and his brows straight and strong above them. He raised large hands to cup her shoulders and his own voice was soft. "Hey, Mom."

"Look at you. Look at you."

His sigh was broken. "Has it really been that long?"

"Thirty three days." Her eyes stung and glistened as she released his face and pulled him further into the room, to a chair she patted until he sat. Isaac, her prize. Her reward for enduring the morning, for enduring everything, her heart and hope, her only straight child. "Come. Sit. Talk."