The phone was ringing. In his dreamless sleep, it was a muted time-bomb. His eyes opened and he stood up, still asleep for the most part. He almost tripped over the table opposite the living room couch, as he walked, almost running, to the phone.
Tom picked it up. "Hello?"
"Hello, Tom."
The voice was familiar. An adult female speaking with a nearly hesitant tone. It was absent of what may have been an overexcited, hyper fan. Almost monotone in manner, the woman carried on, growing more familiar all the same.
"I don't know what to say. You're being so...so - so quiet. Are you drunk or something?"
"No, I just woke up, thank you, miss," Tom said.
The woman laughed, but Tom didn't see what was so funny.
"Did you really move on that fast?"
He didn't hear the hurt and pain in her voice. He said, "I have never been a big fan of alcohol, anyway."
"This isn't about drugs."
"Then, what is it about?" Tom had begun regaining his conscience and turned away from the phone to yawn.
"You and me."
"You and me," he repeated. "Do we know each other?"
The following backlash was an earful on Tom, considering he had awoken only a few minutes before. "Did you come down with a sudden case of amnesia or something? You know me, Tom. I cannot believe you would forget so quickly so you would forget about me. That's - it's - you're still living in that old house," the woman ended with that unexpected statement.
"Yes, I am." Tom's eyes narrowed. "Do I know you?"
"Short-term memory loss, it is," the woman muttered. "I just told you: we know each other. Tom, I should have known what you're like when you're tired. Your circumstances are all blurred and surreal. But listen to me, just listen...You know me, Tom. My name is Ayla."
Ayla. The word stirred memories he had thought about only a day ago. A blonde, medium-height woman materialized before him. She was wearing a gray dress that tightened at the waist and became loose below the hips. Tom smiled. Disbelief crept upon him. This was Ayla, the girl he had broken her heart, the girl he missed and longed for.
"Nice to hear your voice again."
"It's nice to hear your southern drawl yourself."
Tom chuckled. "Thank you."
"Listen, Tom." He could practically see Ayla winding her fingers through the kinks of the phone cord, a nervous habit he had grown accustomed to over the years. "I - I don't know how to say this; I don't know what to say. It is so - much. I don't understand it, myself, but I think I - I miss you."
"Oh, okay." Tom knew it was nothing, hardly even an acknowledgment of Ayla's confession that she missed him, too, but he could not find the words himself.
"Okay? That's all you have to say?" Ayla's voice was calm, but it was not, not really. Inside was a storm she was just keeping down, keeping back from an inevitable explosion.
"No, that's not all." Tom sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "I miss you, too, but that doesn't mean I want you around anymore. I don't want you back; I don't need you, anymore. I'm sorry. God, I - I'm sorry, but I miss you."
"You're delirious, Tom. I am, too." A moment of silence was followed by Ayla muttering something beneath her breath. It sounded as if she had turned away from the phone to speak.
"Is there someone else with you?" Tom's curiosity peaked. "Who are you talking to?"
"Nobody. Nobody at all."
"Ayla."
"Yes?"
Tom bit his lip, teeth gently pressing into the surface. "You've been around someone since, you know, haven't you?"
'You know' - the closest he'd ever get to saying 'the fight', 'the abandonment'.
"Yes, and you haven't?"
The words hurt more than they should have. A faint memory of Jane and him dancing pressed against his mind, and Tom let it pass in silence. The silence said everything to Ayla.
"You've never been the type of guy to be perfectly alright with spending some time alone with yourself, and I feel it, too, Tom. When you've been with someone for three years, it's hard to just be isolated from that one person. And it hurts. God, it does. And I miss you, Tom. You miss me, I can tell it in your tone. Don't lie, Tom. You miss me. All I'm waiting for is for you to say the three little words aloud."
Tom listened on for words that would never come. Ayla was done speaking, that was until Tom included words of his own. It was within a few minutes of silence that he finally said,
"I love you."
Ayla was the one to falter this time. Tom could hear her breathing sped up then slow into the regular pace. She laughed, a nervous one, and said, "That's not what I was expecting to hear, but -"
"Oh." Tom caught on, and he smiled. "I miss you, too."
"I -" The words were sudden, sharp bursts of breath, overwhelming her as they escaped from her lips and into the phone. "I love you, too, Tom."
Tom smiled again. "That's good to hear."
"I hope this may be good to hear, too." The nervousness was present in Ayla's voice again. "I may be stopping by in a few days, once I get things sorted."
"Things?" Tom repeated. "What are you talking about? It's not anything dangerous, is it?"
"No, no, it's just - if I do move back in, the movers are gonna be pissed off. Moving my stuff from here to there." She laughed.
"Nah, they wouldn't care." Tom waved his hand in a gesture that said the movers really wouldn't care.
"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that."
"Well, I am, Ayla, and if the movers are pissed, just cut their payment."
"That could work," Ayla agreed.
Somehow, the two of them both knew they were joking around, kidding, as if they had never had the big fight that had ended it all.
"So, when are you coming over?"
Ayla hesitated. "I don't know, whenever I can."
"It's going to be nice to see the old place, isn't it? I've done so much remodeling with it; you'd hardly recognize it," he teased.
"Oh, shut up, Tom." He had made her laugh again.
"I can't wait to see you. I miss you, you know."
Ayla said, "Are you a broken record?" She put on an imitation of a radio announcer, "Aaaaaand up next...Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers' new single, 'I Miss You Still.'" The two shared another laugh. "Seriously, in all honesty. I miss you, too."
They both smiled at the same time, though neither could physically see it.
"Good night, Ayla."
"Good night to you, too, Tom."
Tom couldn't remember which of them hung up the phone, but one of them had to; because a moment later, Tom was placing the phone back in its carrier, and he smiled again.