Breakdown - Tom Petty

Don't Come Around Here No More

Maybe it was a lack of sleep due to worried thoughts, maybe it was due to Ayla's threat, but three days into the week, Tom found himself saying, "What is it?" His tone was pleasant, surprisingly, but Ayla was in no pleasant mood herself.

She snapped, "You know what it is."

Tom knew he had been dishonest and it had hurt both of them. So, he did not retort back. He kept his pleasant tone up. "I'm sorry, really. I know, the lies were wrong. Okay?"

Ayla did not say, "Okay." She did not say anything at all, just looked at Tom with her wide, angry eyes he thought were beginning to brim over with tears.

That was the moment Tom realized she didn't want to really kick him out, but she would if she needed to. Even at that thought, Tom had no tears of his own to shed. He didn't need to sink to her level. He realized, too, that his honesty was hurting as much as his untruthfulness. But Tom approached the situation cautiously.

"Are you alright?"

Ayla looked at him, the last bit of anger dying down. "No, I'm not alright. You've made sure of that, and I'm sorry for that."

"I'm sorry, too." Tom braced himself for backlash, but received none. "For everything. For leading you on, but I cannot say I am sorry for our dance. It was nice, indeed."

"Thank you."

Tom could not help but notice the shakiness present in her voice. He felt his heart increase beats in that moment.

"You're not going to kick me out, are you?"

"Tom, please. There are still four more days for me to decide."

"But if today was the seventh day, you wouldn't."

"Maybe, but today isn't the seventh day."

Tom tried again on the next day. "You're going to miss me, you know. And I'm going to miss you, too."

"I miss a lot of people. You're no different."

The sixth day, he was still without luck. Tom was surprised Ayla hadn't broken down and yelled at him. That was, of course, for the last day, he was thinking when Ayla sat next to him on the couch.

"Tom, I have known you for many years. There have been good times, but the bad times have been more recent. And I love you, always have, and I know, no matter the outcome, I always will. I'm not angry, not anymore, but I still feel some sort of emotion when I think about what you told me almost a week ago. You implied that you love me, too, but you don't. And I know," Ayla said, her voice stable, "the press makes you out to be a nice guy, and I know you can be nice, but you just chose not to. And that's what I keep thinking about. Alright?"

"Alright," Tom replied. "But, believe me, that was a one time thing. I'm not going to lie anymore. I promise."

Ayla glanced over at him. "I don't know if I can trust you anymore."

Tom took her hands in his. "The thing is, you can. I'm not lying this time, Ayla. I'm not going back. I'm staying here, with you if you stay."

"That could be a lie, too!" Ayla's cheeks colored a deep pink. "That's the thing, Tom - I no longer know when you tell the truth or you're just telling me another lie."

"I'm sorry," Tom said. "It's all my fault."

Ayla let her hands fall away from Tom's. "I'm sorry that it is."

"No, please, give me a moment to say - I'm certain I love you. And only when faced with a situation like this, I know that. I know I love you, Ayla. That's all." Tom's voice broke, but he had said what he wanted to say: the truth.

"I just don't know anymore, Tom!" Her eyes had bubbled over with tears. The beads trickled down her face. Her voice was steady, but there was no comfort in it. "I'm sorry - I'm sorry - I'm sorry. But I'm leaving. I just cannot decipher what is true or not about you. And I'm scared this whole thing was a lie. Oh, my gosh, I think it's better if I leave. I'll stay in an apartment, yes. Without you. I'm sorry, Tom, but I have to go. It's just not right to stay."

Tom put his arms around her shoulders. He felt her shudder as the tears overtook her. Ayla buried her face into his t-shirt-clad shoulder. She was still crying when Tom said, "I understand, Ayla, I do."

She lifted her arms from him and put her right hand on the suitcase. In her other hand, she had picked up the dial phone and called a cab. The yellow taxi was there a moment later. Tom suddenly realized he did not want her to go, but it was her choice, not his. He watched her open the front door, step into the cab, close the door behind her. Then, she was gone.

It was only then did Tom realize he had been crying himself the whole time. He made no move to wipe away the tears. He could let them stay, because, unlike Ayla, they weren't going anywhere.