Pam had her spot in the cafeteria, a small spot in the right corner. It had exactly four little seats situated, facing the commotion from the cafeteria. Pam enjoyed sitting there, observing and blending. She would sit with her knees in a fold, boosting her up from the seat a little bit. Since the elementary school cafeteria was large, the seats adjacent to her were often empty and untouched. She would place herself into the seat second closest to the corner, allowing her to be able to see the origins of the noise and rambunctious voices. This allowed her to be prepared and braced for anything that may be oncoming, which her mind was hyper aware of.
Jim wasn’t sure what happened to Pam during lunchtime. She would sit next to him, fidgeting yet speechless, then vanish. His first couple of days he spent sitting reluctantly with a girl named Katy. She had big, controlled waves which contrasted Pam’s tightly wound, stiff yet frizzy red curls. The girl was chatty and carefree, always giggling and smiling. Jim enjoyed her company but felt something was missing. She inflated any quiet with rants and remarks, but Jim found the quiet to be more meaningful. Pam’s quiet spoke a thousand words, and he loved reading between her layers and the reward of her smile when she felt understood.
••
Jim pulled out a ham sandwich and began nibbling on it. Katy was explaining her cheer team's new uniforms, but Jim had long tuned her out. Roy sat next to them, agreeing passionately with every word she shared. Although he wasn’t conscious of it, his eyes were searching across the ocean of first graders. He was searching for the unmistakable green eyes and soft smile. Then, he found what he was looking for.
“I’m going to go sit with Pam,” Jim announced without warning. His lunch group looked up at him, once he caught their attention with his choice.
Roy snickered, showing his amusement at Jim’s passion for Pam. Katy shrugged, “Why do you talk to her? She won’t talk back, so obviously she probably isn’t wanting anyone to talk to her. Just let her be, if she wanted to make a change then she would.”
Jim was taken a step back. He had never thought of it in those terms. He had never considered that maybe she wanted to not be spoken to, and maybe he was just being an annoyance to her little world of silence. His mind gnawed at him, making him uneasy about his next move.
Pam’s serotonin felt palpable when she saw Jim slowly stand up. He made each move look so casual, so thoughtless. He never seemed to think about who was watching or why he was doing everything he did. Pam admired it.
Pam had been living in silence, untouched for so long that at first, she was unsure how to respond to Jim’s compassion. She was so afraid of chasing him away, waiting apprehensively for him to realize just how much of a nervous wreck she was and how uneventful she was able to make anything. She felt herself leap each time he came closer as if he was radiating joy like light from the sun. He was there, in the middle of the deepest storms, the sliver of hope that shone through even the thickest clouds.
As Jim sank back into his seat, Pam’s heart mimicked the action. She could hear the exchanges between the group in front of her. She wanted so truly to convince him that he was wrong, that they were filling his head with false truths. She loved the acceptance and lack of pressure he pressed upon her. She loved the “conversations” they had. Her lips were pressed firmly together, the tips of her teeth pressing into them and sucking them in, only showing the peach of her skin. Her tongue pushed against the gate, the keeper of her words gate, longing for freedom. Her tongue wanted to rebel, to ignore the huge stop signs that lined the inner of her cheek, with warnings and consequences of letting a word slip into the open. The keeper had carefully and strategically lined each octagonal sign in a location in hopes of intimidating her words. It always worked, her anxiety seemed stronger than she was.
This time, the conversation was about her. The conversation was about her and that she may enjoy being with her keeper. This was far from the truth, her keeper held her captive. She felt an unfamiliar feeling of frustration at her keeper, rather than immediate submission to him. The frustrated feeling was fleeting, then she appeased the squeals of her mind. Her mind was restraining and strict, but comfortable and familiar. Yet, she always had the option of drawing. Turns out her fear of words won’t allow her to express herself via tongue, but that won’t stop her hands. She wasn’t going to let the usual safety of apathy jump in, make itself comfortable, and stay for a while. To grow and take up all the room, leaving no space for choice. Even if a pencil and paper weren’t as loud as words, they allowed her to feel heard. Pam glanced at Jim then pulled out her notebook.
