Breakdown - Tom Petty

You Got Lucky

Ayla was seated at the breakfast table when Tom walked in, newspaper in hand. She had not moved when Tom said, "I still don't understand why you even read this crap."

"Tom!" Ayla said at his statement.

Tom looked at her and placed the paper before her. "Sorry," he replied quickly. He sat beside her.

Ayla's eyes skimmed over the headline. "It's not crap at all!"

"Alright, so, it's not. Is a hidden crush crap?"

She looked at him with wide eyes. He had hit a nerve, but he hadn't, not really.

"Maybe so," Ayla told him, knowing all too well about her own. "Why?"

"Nothing. I just have something on my mind."

Ayla's attention shifted from the newspaper to Tom's eyes. A blue hue she could usually get lost end and stare at for all of eternity if she truly felt like it, his eyes were not wide and boiling with anger, like her own. Instead, the pupils were slightly bigger than normal, and they looked calm, a gentle ocean where no ships disturbed it. He was looking at her with an emotion she had not seen often on his face. With interest, Tom looked back into her eyes.

"You were thinking about what, exactly?"

Tom said, "The last time I saw Jane."

"Jane Benyo," Ayla repeated.

"Yeah. She was nice, beautiful, but it just didn't work out." This was the truth; Tom and Jane had been well into their relationship when Jane chose the opportunity to say what they were both thinking: it just was not working out. There were no angry fights, just a fallout of their relationship. Tom easily remembered missing her and calling her number on the old dial phone. He never got an answer, no call back, no nothing. He had stopped his attempts at contacting her. She didn't want to see him anymore. That much was clear. And he had moved on.

"Okay."

"And, I know she's in the past." He gave her a bittersweet smile. "And that's good for both of us." Tom said just enough so Ayla could think he was no longer talking about Jane and him, but Ayla and himself.

"Alright, so Jane's your ex," Ayla said. "We both know that. Are you just feeling nostalgic today?" She knew it was something other than just nostalgia. Tom's eyes were absent of the dreamy gaze he usually had when he talked about his past.

"Not quite." Tom shot her another smile.

Ayla was yet to crack. "Do you want to talk about Jane?"

"No, I only have one more thing to say about Jane Benyo, and that she was lucky she had me for the time she did." Looking into her eyes all the while, Tom continued with one last sentence. "You are lucky to have me, as I have you."

"Oh," was all Ayla said. Again and again. "Oh. Oh my, goodness. You don't mean - oh - Tom!"

He smiled. "I do mean it," Tom said.

"Stop lying to me!" Ayla said through her joyous laughter.

"I'm not lying. I've been living with you for a while now, and I guess, I have taken a liking to you." He smiled, and the expression stayed. "Just listen to me: not many people find someone they admire as much as they are admired. And, well, luck has a factor, I'd say."

"You're saying, I got lucky?" Ayla returned his smile. "That's nice, Tom."

"Is it?" He laughed at her expression of confusion; she had clearly not expected that respond. Tom answered his own question. "Of course, it is. Luck is nice and favors the nicest people. You got lucky, as I did. We've been lucky ever since we met."

"I remember that day," Ayla said, her smile blossoming. "I had just seen one of your Heartbreaker shows."

It was a rather amusing thing that Tom was one of the Heartbreaker himself, or at least had been for a while. That was, until that morning.

"And you were wearing a gray dress, went a little bit past your knees." Tom smiled at the memory. Of all the lies he was telling, this was the truth.

"You were wearing a red, almost pink shirt. You looked nice in it, Tom."

"Thank you," Tom interjected.

"You're welcome." Ayla smiled, too. "And of all the songs you sang, one particularly stayed with me. 'American Girl.' I think the reason why it remains one of my favorites of yours is the whole premise of 'she was an American girl.' Not is. I used to think it was because she changed nationalities, as she went to New Zealand or someplace. But then, I realized," Ayla had a mildly dark look in her eyes when she said, "you wrote it as was because the American girl had died. And I think a part of me died that evening. Whatever I had been a fan of before was suddenly swept away to be a fan to you. Not just a fan, but a fan who had fallen in love with you." Ayla's cheeks splashed a light shade of pink. "I'm sorry, that was cheesy."

"It was the truth," Tom said, knowing that it had been the truth. "It wasn't cheesy at all. It was nice, honestly." It hurt to say the words when he realized there were more lies than there had been truth in his side of the conversation.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Ayla." Tom gently brushed away a strand of Ayla's blonde hair away from her face. It was many shades lighter than his, but he admired it all the same.

Ayla asked, "Were you serious about the whole luck thing?"

"Yes, I was. You are truly lucky, more lucky than most fans get."

Ayla looked at him.

Tom went on, "And I suppose I could say I'm lucky, too, to have you. You have been very nice to me the whole time we've known each other. I just hope we can know each other better."

Her smile widened. "Yeah, that'll be nice." Her voice had quieted.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes, it's all fine."

It must have been something in her tone, because Tom persisted. "Honestly, is everything alright?"

"No." Ayla's sudden change in answer did not surprise him; he had practically heard the lie the moment the words had left her. "Not everything is fine. I just don't understand why you have taken a fancy to me. It's just out of the blue, and I like it, I appreciate it. But it's different. Yes, that's what it is."

"Different can be good."

"It can be," agreed Tom.

"But it can also be bad. I'm not sure what to think about this. But I think I like it."

"I like it, too," Tom said.

The thought that maybe that was not a lie was a nice thing, compared to all the half-truths he had told sitting in the same chair, only moments before.