Breakdown - Tom Petty

You Wreck Me

It was midday when Tom was laying on his back on the front porch. He was waiting, looking up at the sky, for rain to fall. If it did, he would be safe beneath the concrete roof overhead and be able to watch peacefully, as the flowers and grass were rained upon. He would be safe, from not everything but the rain. In that moment, the rain did feel like everything to Tom.

For the first time in days, Ayla Reddings was completely absent from his thoughts. It was well, an improvement, Tom thought. He was moving on, he could survive without her. He would be better without her. Without her, the rain still fell, but he felt more peacefully safe now than ever before. He hardly noticed the absence of Ayla in her mind. It was not unfamiliar nor familiar; just a thing that had creeped up on him without his knowledge of such a thing. He did not mind it, just let it last, let it to spend out the rest of the time he had in the world. He was alright with that.

Something light fell from above his head. His eyes skimmed over to the edge of the roof. A singular bead of water trickled down the side and landed near his hand, a few feet away. It was not close enough to touch him, but he did not have long to linger on that observation as another bead followed with a third. The water trickled over, lightly brushing against his pinky finger. He did not pull away, but allowed the water to stay, as he awaited its descendants to fall from the heavens. They came, the descendants did, landing off the roof and into the grass. A few, the brave, went across the concrete floor of the porch and pressed up against his hands. Tom watched, hypnotized by the simple acts of nature. His hands were covered in rain, and he sat up. His feet rested on the wet grass. He allowed himself to be vulnerable to the rain, be one with nature. His blonde hair was infested with raindrops, his skin washed afresh with the rain. His clothes were lightly tapped on by nature's tears. He sat there, listening as more rain landed on the roof and onto him. He hardly moved, only to blink when the raindrops beaded up on his eyelashes. It was a shower of calmness and peace, and Tom realized he had needed the rain as much as the plants had. He smiled. It was better than any cigarette, better than any girl, better than anything except maybe music. Even then, it was a close second. Rain was wonderful, and Tom could feel the wonder that afternoon.

When the rain ceased its fall at last, Tom did not stand up. Sitting still, he glanced down at his clothes. His damp shirt clung to his chest. His jeans had become uncomfortable, as most denim does when it is exposed to liquids. He wanted to sit there, but he could not. He had to go back inside and change, as reluctant he was to do so.

Somehow, he had stood up and returned to the indoors. His wet shirt was thrown to the ground, his jeans removed. All his other garments were dry enough; he would still have to replace his shoes for the day. Tom put on the red-pink shirt Ayla had first seen him in, without knowing it had been that shirt. He replaced his jeans with black leggings. He would allow his socks to dry a little more, no shoes needed, though he caught himself looking over at his boots. He resisted the urge to put them on and get the footwear wet, too. Tom did not resist the urge to get an afternoon meal, and he found himself in the kitchen a few minutes later, alone with a sandwich and a cup of water.

He bit into another section of peanut butter and jelly. It was good, just as good as it had been when he was a child. At the age of twenty-four, the sandwich was a way of nostalgia, but the feeling lasted momentarily. The sandwich devoured, the water drank, the nostalgia passed. And Ayla only entered his mind once, but once had been enough.

Tom had just finished off his cup of water when he thought, I wonder why Ayla is. It was a simple thought, one he had expected would come sometime, but it had a tremendous effect on him. I wonder if she's met some guy, maybe she's already moved on, too. I've moved on, haven't I? Yes...I think I have. And I think Ayla may have, too. Maybe she's actually being appreciated for once, maybe she loves someone else. Someone better than me. Someone different. New, experienced. A man without the rock-and-roll lifestyle, someone who's slowed down and taken a look at the world. I don't get that. I never have, never will. The fast lane just doesn't stop; it doesn't slow down. Life keeps on going on and on and on. And it was nice with her and it's nice now, but...

But I miss her. Oh my, I do. I miss Ayla. The times with better with her. I miss her. Nothing can change that. I miss Ayla; I miss her. I miss you, Ayla. I miss the way you called me dear and...Why did I start the fights? It's all my fault. Why? Why did we do what we did? I miss you. I do. I miss you, Ayla, you know. I do. And that is the truth.

Tom smiled, but it was full of its own regret. His head landed lightly on the table, and he asleep for a few more hours of the day.