Breakdown - Tom Petty

Don't Do Me Like That

Tom felt this moment was right, which was strange considering lies had gotten him where he was. He did like Ayla. Love was another manner. He had only felt a bit of what he thought to be love when he had been going out with Jane. However, that relationship had fizzled out. He did not regret it. In fact, he liked to think about it and remember he did not need Jane. Ayla...? Did he need her? He was not certain. He almost felt she was out of his league, but that thought was quick and picked up by the wind. If he truly wanted to, he could start a relationship with Ayla. That certainly was a possibility.

He looked down at Ayla to find her smiling. She looked up at him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for the dance."

"You're - you're welcome." Tom felt as if his throat was closing in on itself. It was more difficult to choke out the words.

"You're not looking well," Ayla commented.

"Oh, maybe I should lie down."

"If you want to, you can."

Tom retreated to his room, but he did not lie down. He closed the door behind him. His eyes flickered over the walls. A somewhat off-white, undecorated. On his dresser was a photograph of Elvis Presley he had had since he was a kid. He did not pull the covers back on his bed. He was not going to lie down. Tom contemplated about sitting on the floor, eyes closed and thinking, but changed his mind about it and went to pace around the small area provided. He thought, What if she knows this whole day was a lie? What if she doesn't and is convinced I actually love her? Tom did not know which would be worse. But he found out later when Ayla knocked on his door.

"Tom? Is it alright if I come in?"

Tom stopped pacing and found himself staring at his bed. He felt a stab of guilt that he was not lying down, as Ayla had advised him to do so. Half a minute past, he was beneath the covers, shoes thrown onto the floor. Tom said, "Go ahead."

The door opened, and Ayla walked in with a clean dishcloth. She made her way over to Tom. Sitting beside him, Ayla gently put the cool, wet cloth to Tom's forehead.

"In case you have a fever," she said.

Tom laughed. "I don't have a fever. I was just thinking."

"About Jane again?"

"No." He was finding it difficult not to speak the truth. "I was thinking about - about you."

Ayla smiled. Her hands folded in her lap, she twirled the dishcloth subconsciously. She waited for him to continue speaking, but when he did not, she said, "What about me?"

"Ayla, about this morning..." Tom hesitated, thinking his way through how he was going to say what he needed to say. "I - it was nice, but it wasn't really what I was looking for. It wasn't what I meant."

"Are you sure you don't have a fever?"

"I'm sure." Tom realized she had made an attempt to change the subject. "It was nice," he repeated, "but it wasn't the truth."

"Were you lying about it all?"

"No, not exactly...."

"Tom."

Oh, it was a wondrous thing how much the tone in her voice could affect him, even when she said a simple thing like his name.

"Look: I - I didn't lie about all of it. I -"

"Do you love me?"

Silence crept into the room and stayed, until Tom choked out, "I - I felt something when we danced."

Ayla looked at him. "That wasn't because it was Elvis, was it?"

"No, dear -"

"Please, don't." Her voice cracked.

Tom amended, "No, I felt something burst in my chest, in a good way, as if my heart was opening to you. It was nice, beautiful."

"That's how you described Jane."

"Are you still not over that?" He had not meant to raise his voice, but it had happened all the same. "I'm sorry. It was not all lies," he tried again.

"No, I don't want to hear it. For all I know, the words you speak to me now can be lies."

"Ayla, darling, please. Today was the only time I lied to you. I can guarantee that." Tom's eyes looked into hers. For some reason, he was not surprised to see she was almost crying.

"Alright, I believe you, but that doesn't mean I trust you." Ayla sniffled. "You know, I don't need your half of the bills paid. I can carry over quite well with the paycheck at the office."

"Are you kicking me out?"

"I'm certainly thinking about it, Tom."

"Oh, damn," he swore.

"I'll give you until the end of the week, then you can make it up to me. If you don't, you can leave and take your lying lips with you."

"Ayla, I'm sorry," Tom apologized. It was the truth.

"No, just stop. Just give me a moment to think."

And he did. He gave her many moments to think. Separated in the same house, Ayla's trust for Tom was crumbling. And for Tom, he found himself realizing Ayla was more than just a star struck fan who loved him. Besides, Tom thought, she loved him too much to be serious about the plans to make him leave. He was certain of that, but part of him was not. And that part could be right, he realized, but he hoped to God it was not.