Breakdown - Tom Petty

Don't Do Me Like That

Tom had a new worry upon his chest: that Ayla would have heard through his lies and know his half of the conversation had not been the truth. He felt guilty about it, naturally, but he wanted to see her happy. That was all she deserved, he thought. He didn't mind lying to make her happy. If lies could make Ayla happy, then he would lie. It was a terrible thing, and the guilt had begun to bite at him, but he ignored it. He just wanted to see Ayla be happy, the best she could be, as she had often put it.

That did not make his way of lying any easier. He had not been the best at lying, and he had never been any sort of manipulator. He lacked the cleverness for that. He was smart, but he was also, for the majority of time, an honest man. And it pained him to keep lying as he did. To see Ayla happy was almost enough for him to continue. Almost, but not quite.

"Tom, are you feeling alright?" Ayla asked him that afternoon. She clearly suspected nothing.

"Yes," Tom said. And he did feel alright that Ayla was in love with him, the first time in a while. A question nagged at him, his own question of if he loved her or not. He could not give an exact answer. To Tom, love was not a measurement but an emotion, a strong one. He just wasn't sure if what he felt was strong enough. So, he did not bring up the topic of love. And neither did Ayla. He was thankful for that.

"Are you alright?" Tom replied.

"Yes. Thank you."

For a moment, Tom thought she was saying thanks for his lies that meant nothing and his untruthful words that also meant nothing. He took a deep breath against the invisible needles against his head. The beginning of a headache reminded him that Ayla had not been thanking him for a thing she did not know of. She was thanking him for being concerned about her, but for some reason Tom did not know, that hurt more than if she had been thanking him for his untruthfulness.

"You're welcome, dear." Tom was trying something new, simple. A pet name was both of those things and yet none of those things. It could mean much more than simple. An expression of love, but Tom had not meant it as that and he was glad Ayla did not see it as such.

"How lucky are we, Tom?" Ayla laughed at his expression of mild shock and confusion. "I'm joking. You can't measure luck."

"Or can you?" Tom found himself questioning.

Ayla shrugged. She was over the joke already. "Thank you for this morning."

"All I said was some stuff about luck and liking." Tom laughed. "That's all."

"Yeah, but it was nice..."

"You're welcome."

And that was that.

Ayla sat beside Tom on the couch. Tom was fiddling with the radio, his mind on Elvis Presley. Filled with delight and curiosity if and when Tom would find a station playing a song of Elvis, Ayla reached over, fingertips brushing against Tom's hand, and one of them must have twisted the knob as the jazz station ceased to, 'I Can't Help Falling in Love With You.' A simple song that meant a lot more, like nicknames. But hurt a lot more, unlike nicknames. It reminded him of Ayla's love for him, and that was pure and truth, untouched by his untruthfulness.

None of these things stopped him as he stood up, which Ayla followed. He put his hands on her waist, as Ayla's hands went on his shoulders. He held her close, eyes closed, absorbed in the lyrics Elvis was singing.

Ayla really couldn't help falling in love. It was just a feeling, but it meant more to her. She truly felt something for Tom she had never felt towards other men. And, she realized with a feeling her eyes were about to dispose of tears, something had crumbled in that feeling. It was ironic enough that the day Tom would return her feelings, she would feel something was off with him. No, not off, but different. It was different for Tom to have this sort of interest in her. She had known he had had girlfriends, had even met a few. She was not certain she would be one of those girlfriends, but only the future could tell, Ayla knew. At the moment, all she had to think about was her love for Tom, not the doubt creeping in. With her head on Tom's chest, she repeated one thought over, I love him and he loves me. That I know to be true. I love him and he loves me...