Breakdown - Tom Petty

Lonely Tonight

He awoke late the following afternoon. The feeling that something was missing struck him. Tom shook his head, and reminded himself that Ayla was gone. Not even dreams could fool him and tell him otherwise. He pushed back the covers away from himself and had to admire the fact he had fallen asleep in the clothes he had worn the last day. Tom stepped out of bed, pulled the covers back, and walked into the bathroom. He almost walked past the mirror to the shower, but he stopped.

Tom looked at his face. His eyes were as bright as ever, but beneath them, dark circles were present. Stubble lined his cheeks and chin, and he ran a hand over the skin. Tom opened a drawer by the sink. He pulled out a razor and some shaving cream before preceding to shave his stubble. Once he had, he turned the faucet on in the shower. He looked at himself in the mirror again. He still looked like himself, just tired. Tom stripped his shirt, jeans, and underwear then stepped into the shower.

He thought, Life sure is a lot more quiet - peaceful - when you're on your own.

It was a thought that naturally made sense to him. He and Ayla had moved in together nearly three years ago. And, now, here he was, alone with the house all to himself, the bills all to himself. But he felt he would carry on alright, perhaps, if he adjusted to the situation as quickly as he could. Today was the perfect chance to do so. All he needed was a starting point.

He let the water wash over him as if it were rain. Peacefully, it touched his skin in warm streams he found himself longing to. Tom thought, Being alone ain't so bad, and he smiled. He was fine, alright with being alone. It was a new familiarity he was enjoying. He did not need Ayla, he thought again. He was fine without her. Fine, perfectly fine.

He shut off the faucet and stepped out of the shower, sparing a glance at the wet, dark blonde mess his hair had become in the few minutes spent underwater. He would deal with it later, he decided, as he put a towel around his waist.

Sitting on his bed a minute later, in a white shirt and jeans, Tom had his hand on the phone. He knew he wanted to call Jane again, invite her over, but he was reluctant to do so. He was using Jane as a distraction to his current situation, yes, that was it. As he had used cigarettes in his past - he still did, actually. His left index finger twitched towards the cigarette pack on his dresser. He picked it up, took out an ol' ciggie, and lit it. A distraction, yes, but it was nice, too, like most distractions. Besides, cigarettes wouldn't walk out on him. When they were gone, he could just buy another pack. He couldn't just do that with women.

The thought was bittersweet, and meant nothing to Tom. He smoked for a couple of minutes then stubbed it out. He had the phone is his hand again. He wasn't thinking about calling Jane. Who he wanted to call was Ayla, but he realized it was unlikely that would ever happen. The two had shared the home phone. Even if she had gotten a new number, there was no way for Tom to know it. It would be the same if she had gotten a new address already, though Tom suspected she had gotten a hotel room somewhere. For some reason, she could tolerate the conditions that came with living in a hotel, but Tom hated the places. He preferred to be homeward bound, like that Simon and Garfunkel song he had heard as a kid. It was better, more stable to live in one place. But sometimes, you had no choice but to go out and explore the world. In a way, that was what Ayla had done. In this expedition of life, she had left Tom for whatever was out there waiting for her. It was a comforting thought that also brought fear upon him.

Tom looked at the buttons lining the phone. He could take his chances and dial number after number, in a desperate hope to hear about Ayla, see if she was alright. It was a stupid thing that was unlikely to succeed. Ayla may have not gotten a phone. If she did, it would not be in the phone book just yet, and even if she had, dialing random numbers was a gamble Tom knew he would lose if he chanced it. So, he stayed on the safe side and put the phone back in its carrier. It was with a nerve-ticking temptation, he told himself to not pick it up again...don't pick it up...not again, not ever.

Tom left the phone where it was. He ran a hand through his hair, and pulled open the dresser drawer. Inside was another pack of cigarettes and a comb. He ran the comb through his mostly dry hair. A quick glance in the bedroom mirror told him his hair looked well enough at the moment. He returned the comb and put the covers around him. His head rested gently on the pillow. His mind continued where it had left off.

Ayla is gone. She's out, free to her own choices, free to the world. I don't need her. I can just let her be free. I can allow her to do that. I can allow her to leave me for the bigger world outside our lives. She can do whatever she wants, whenever. I don't need to tell her what to do; I don't need her to stay. She can be free...free...

Tom was overwhelmed with a sudden emotion. It tore at him from the inside, making his head ache, and he found himself needing another cigarette. He was halfway to reaching over to the drawer when he realized what the feeling was: loneliness.

It was a new thing to him, but an old friend all the same. He had felt it when he and Jane had had their falling out, felt it when the tours for that year had gone on break. But feeling loneliness because of Ayla, that was new. He rolled over onto his side, cheek pressed to the firm pillow beneath his head. He was fine, but he was lonely all the same.

It was an odd thing not to say good night to Ayla, nor to hear her footsteps as she walked lightly over to her own room. It was also odd to think if he walked in there right in this moment, he would find the room completely empty except for the bed-frame and dresser. The closet would be empty. Ayla's chair at the breakfast table would be absent. He found he missed her terribly, even as Tom told himself he no longer needed her. He did not need her, but he wanted her to return to the safety of their home. He had one last thought before sleep overtook him at last. Without Ayla, home wasn't home. Then, the waves of sleep overwhelmed him as tears rolled down his face that night. It was a lonely night, the first of many. And none of them would be any easier than what he felt the first night Ayla wasn't home.