Pam sat on the rubber swing, the metal chain chilly against her finger. She extends her legs, then pulls them back in, allowing herself to build up a little more momentum. Roy was on the swing next to her, throwing himself off the swing. Darrel stood next to him, saying how high he reached before hoping off. Each took turns, high-fiving one another as they got higher. Pam couldn’t seem to build up enough courage to do what they were doing, but enjoyed swinging nonetheless. She loved feeling like she could touch the light blue of the air.
“Pam, your turn!” Roy said, his voice testy.
Pam looked at him blankly, as he took her from her thoughts.
Darrel elbowed Roy and the two turned around and whispered with a few snickers scattered in their conversation. Roy spun back around with a smirk, the mulch displacing itself from the toe of where his sneakers had spun. The sun was bright, and she had to put her hand above her eyes to see his facial expression. The sun mocked her with its own bright words it created with light. The boys, or anyone for that matter, rarely spoke to her, already accepting they wouldn’t get anything in return. When she was spoken to, it mostly consisted of making fun of her silence or awkwardly waiting for a response.
Roy straightened his back. “Pam. Say nothing if you like me,” he teased.
Pam stayed silent, stuck in a spinning world. Roy looked to Darrel, who gave him a nod of approval and a smirk.
“You like Roy!” Darrel taunted. He was laughing mischievously, looking around to verify the teacher was not around. Pam would have been thankful for someone to stand up for her, but she also accepted that Mr. Scott would probably only make the situation worse.
Pam slowly lowered herself from the swing. Her green eyes searching for an escape. Pam knew she was easy to go after. She wanted to change it, she wanted to be like the other children who argued and chatted. She became a favorite of the boys, her lack of tattling and retorts to their mischief only making it more fun for them. The children never had poor intentions, but as children age they find ways to tease others in ways to suppress their insecurities. At least that’s what mama told Pam. Pam wasn’t even sure what insecurities were- but they didn’t sound good. Sometimes mama told her a boy teased when they had a crush, but that only seemed to make Pam more nervous, so Helene stuck with it being a source of insecurities.
••
It had been a week now, since Helene had finally found the answer. She called Pam’s pediatrician to find someone in that area of expertise quickly, and got the diagnosis easily. At fist she didn’t even bother asking Bill his opinion on making the appointment. If she found help, she was going to find a way for Pam to have it. Fortunately, when the confirmation email was sent to him instead of her, his reaction seemed the reverse of what she had expected. He had come home from work that day and shuffled straight into the living room.
“You did it,” he sniffled.
Helene looked up, then knowingly wrapped her arms around him, “we’re going to find answers for our little girl, Bill.”
“I never thought an email could mean so much,” he mumbled into her hair.
Helene knew that this was his way. His way of apologizing for being overwhelmed with work and the constant attention and emails it required of him- he was realizing his daughter was the most important email. Helene was still frustrated, but relieved to see him start to see the situation more clearly. That night he even made Pam’s favorite meal, grilled cheese. His grilled cheese was over buttered and soggy, and she was pretty sure Pam just showered complaints about it one day to make him feel good. She always found a way to get a smile out of someone, but panic would run through her if they seemed even slightly upset. Even if it meant talking with her body language, she found ways to brighten Penny or Helene’s day. Now, of course Bill was convinced Pam loved the cheese sandwich, making it anytime he felt Pam was in need of a pick-me-up or as a reward. He made it when she got three addition flash cards correct in a row or when some kids at school had teased her. Helene knew Pam would never say a word about her distaste towards the greasy grilled cheese after knowing she had built it up for him. Honestly, if he just held back on some of the grease and used the orange cheese, she would probably love it. Her eyes didn’t light up and turn a new shade of green that they usually did when she really enjoyed something, contrasting from her usual pale, anxious eyes. Helene never mentioned this occurrence to Bill, hoping one day Pam would say what she really thought, and the best place to start was in her family.
••
Pam met all of the criteria for selective mutism easily. Helene felt a wave of relief to find an answer, a path to healing. Although a name to the problem was helpful, it was also intimidating. Pam had sat on the paper on the doctors table, nodding her head in response. She pressed her bitten finger nails into the crinkling paper, her legs swinging. The appointment was mostly made up of Helene explaining the situation throughout their allotted time. Ms. Flax and Mr. Scott had also sent voicemails so that the doctor could properly access the situation via ranging sources. Creating a plan for Pam was relatively straightforward. The goal was to get her to comfortably talk. At this point, shyness and outgrowing her quietness was out of the question. The doctor was quick to agree her source of mutism was in relation to severe social anxiety. Every morning, after Pam brushed her teeth, Helene gave Pam one of her “worry pills”. The doctor prescribed a low dose because of Pam’s small size, but they soon upped it. Pam swallowed it with her apple juice, to reduce the sour taste the meds left on her tongue. If she was lucky, they would find grape juice in the juice aisle. It was Pam’s favorite and she jumped into the car every Sunday, hoping they would find it at the grocery store. Whenever they found it she would reach on her tippy toes to shelf and gingerly place it in the metal shopping cart, as to avoid a loud clank as it touched the silver material.
Rule number one was something that was slightly unexpected- to just make Pam comfortable. They were planning to slowly expose Pam to locations and people, and encourage her to talk. They would start small- just consisting of getting her to talk with someone other than her mother. The plan was ambitious, and Pam was responding relatively slowly thus far. She still hadn’t taken the leap, the leap of letting someone outside their tiny home her her even smaller voice. Their second step was to get her to talk in a school setting, even if that meant coming in during a weekend to reduce the crowd and commotion. The medication made Pam’s leg bounce a little less and spot on her thigh were she pressed her nail into when she was frozen in panic and trying to bring herself back into the moment was becoming more peach colored. The black and blue on it was beginning to subside and her quick short breaths less frequent. The spot had made Helene overwhelmed with worry, and Pam quickly picked up on this, wearing leggings to cover it. Pam had no intentions of creating this spot, but it became a method of soothing her mind for herself. Despite this, she still was lost for words and her heart rate still raced. She was rather stiff in her ways, too scared to bend.
