NOTE: I made this story for Creative Writing class originally, and I have yet to edit it. Oops, oh well. Also, I typed this up with only one hand, on the spot, so any incoherent-ness is because of that. (Because it took me the whole day to think it up and write it out...) I hope it still stands well.

Silence

They say that actions speak louder than words, but sometimes, that’s not always the case. Sometimes, just talking can get you places, and earn you a friend.

I remember the first time I saw him. It was behind a set of bars. He was leaning against the back wall, looking like someone had just caned him a hundred times, or rather, threw him into jail for no reason.

I was visiting my sister then, when Tahomes, one of the security guards and a friend of mine, mentioned to me a new arrival.

“The fishers found him wandering the beach,” he said. “Some people got injured because of this guy. –By the way, how’s your mother? I haven’t seen you around here to see Raoumi lately, so I was wondering if anything had happened at home.”

I smiled. “No, no, Mother’s doing well, just easily tired. I have to help around the house more, that’s all.”

Tahomes clicked his tongue. “That’s a shame. Tell her to get better, will you?”

Tahomes was always a kind and caring man; he was the one who first helped me around the prison and showed me to where Raoumi’s cell was. (Mother never visited Raoumi; they didn’t get along too well because they never talked to each other.)

“Sure, sure,” I chuckled. “So, what did this man do, other than injure people? Why was he arrested?”

Tahomes shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know the details, but I heard he stole from one of the fishing boats and didn’t cooperate with the police when he was questioned about it.”

I clicked my tongue. “Is he a foreigner, perhaps?” I asked.

“Probably.”

“May I see him?”

Tahomes lifted a brow. “What? Are you sure?”

I nodded. Of course, I didn’t know the true nature of this criminal, but I had to see. Something told me to go see him. “Does anyone know his name?” I asked.

Tahomes shook his head. “He doesn’t talk much, so we haven’t gotten much information out of him just yet. Until we can, he’s pretty much stuck here.”

I frowned and asked for Tahomes to lead the way to the man’s cell. Tahomes hesitated, and I knew he was concerned, but I didn’t want to go back on what I said.

Down many different hallways we went, walking around in all kinds of directions just to get to one of the back cells in the prison where Tahomes said he was being kept.

When we finally got there (I lost count of how many right turns and left turns we took), Tahomes pointed out his cell, surrounded by many empty ones. He let me approach the cell, but stationed himself nearby.

“Hello,” I greeted the man in the cell, waving my hand a little.

He was pressed against the back wall, slouched against it.

“What is your name?” I called out to the man, standing close to the bars.

He didn’t answer me, but his electric-blue eyes were fixed right on me, piercing me with their glare. I offered him a smile, but he didn’t return it. His large mouth was set in a deep frown, curtained by an unkempt goatee. The hair on his head was just as messy, almost like he stuck his head in a blender and pressed puree. He certainly was not the prettiest, nor happiest, man in the world right now.

“Do you understand me?” I asked him, stepping closer. “If you do, could you please tell me your name?”

Behind me, I heard Tahomes say, “He hasn’t spoken to any of the people who have come in here and tried talking to him.”

“Well, that’s not right,” I thought aloud. “Sir, whatever your name is, if there is anything you need, you can call on me, okay? My name is Tuan,” I said to the prisoner before turning around and retreating back to where Tahomes was waiting.

“See what I mean?” he said, snorting.

“No, no, I think he’s just uncomfortable.”

Tahomes shook his head and slapped me on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s leave.”

I followed him out and down the multiple halls back to the front of the building again. On the way, I asked him, “Do you think I could come back again and try talking to him some more?”

Tahomes sputtered and looked over his shoulder at me. “Why, Tuan? You’re truly a nice gentleman, so I don’t think it’s a really good idea to let you near a sketchy guy like him.”

“Please, allow me to try getting to him. Maybe I can at least get him to open up to me and say his name?” I pressed.

Tahomes stopped walking. “Tuan... I don’t know. You may be a nice man and all, but we don’t know anything about this guy and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I gave Tahomes a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. We will be on two different sides of the cell, so I don’t think anything will happen to me.”

Tahomes stared me at me a long time, not saying a word. When I thought he wouldn’t give me an answer, he sighed heavily and flapped his hand in my direction. “All right, Tuan, I’ll trust you on this. I’ll let you visit him whenever you come by for Raoumi, but... be careful around him, okay? Please?”

I agreed to Tahomes’ terms and left for the day.

When I returned three days later, I visited both Raoumi and the nameless man.

“Hello,” I greeted him. Just like before, he was scrunched up against the back wall, unmoving and silent. “How are you today?”

I knew he wouldn’t answer me, but this was how I talked with every prisoner I met in this place.

“It’s about midday, you know,” I continued, sitting down on a stool Tahomes brought for me. “Have they fed you yet? I heard the workers in the kitchen are adding a specialty today: lime jello. They don’t normally give out desert, do they?” I kept my gaze down at my hands as I unnecessarily smoothed my pant legs. “Raoumi doesn’t normally get jello, so hopefully she will today. She likes lime jello, it’s her favorite.

“By the way, do you even like jello?”

I looked up from my lap, straight into the man’s electric-blue eyes. They still unnerved me.

“...Do you not like talking?” I asked quietly, my brows knitting together in a slight frown.

Not everyone in prison talked to you, I knew, but at least they told me to leave if they didn’t like me. This man, though, said nothing positive or negative toward my chatter.

“Perhaps I should just... leave?”

He did not answer me, which was disconcerting, but I let it go and got up. I brushed myself off and left the holding. Perhaps, I figured, it was not a good day for him.

After the first day, I made it a habit to come by and talk with him. I told Raoumi about visiting him, and she shook her head at me. I didn’t understand why others did not like this foreigner. I saw nothing wrong with him, and since he didn’t talk there couldn’t possibly be anything vulgar he could’ve said to upset anyone. Maybe he was just misunderstood and right now he was resenting that?

I didn’t know, and he wouldn’t talk to me to give me any answers.

Around my eighth visit, I was starting to feel uneasy visiting him. Perhaps this man was mute? He certainly didn’t speak a word to me all the times I came, and listening to me talk was like listening to a broken record. I could never think of anything good to say to him, so I talked about my mother and what I did with her everyday.

“Today,” I said, “is very cloudy and humid. You can’t tell all that in here, can you?” I looked around and took in the windowless surroundings. “I’ve always wondered if you could still listen to the thunder and rain, but I guess not. It’s not like back at home. Mother doesn’t like the rain and thunder much.”

I sighed, suddenly feeling really tired. “It must get really lonely in here... I know Raoumi gets lonely sometimes, so she likes it whenever I visit. It cheers her up.” I studied the man’s features. “Do you get lonely whenever I’m not around? I hardly think so, I’m not that great of company.”

I chuckled softly, dropping my gaze. “I don’t really talk about anything interesting, I’m sure. I wish I could truly talk to you, though. In all this time that I’ve spent with you, I have not learned your name, yet you know mine and all my daily habits and acquaintances. How funny is that?”

Suddenly, looking down felt shameful; I lifted my head and stood up, looking around me at the empty walls and empty prison cells.

“I wonder,” I spoke softly, eyes fixed on a speck on an empty wall. “Is it right for me to keep returning here? I do wish I could get through to you, somehow, but I haven’t so much as gotten a blink. Perhaps... perhaps it would be better for the both of us if we de—”

“Xamür.”

I blinked. “What?” I turned around to face the man in prison.

“Xamür,” he repeated. His voice was coarse and low, as if he was unsure of how to use it. “My name. Xamür.”

“Zaa-moor?”

“Xamür.”

“Ah.” I didn’t really know how to say his name, nor did I care, because the fact that he spoke was positively distracting enough. “I’m Tuan, I’m sure you remember.”

From all the way back there, he nodded. “Yes. You talk to me more than others. Is nice.”

I smiled at his broken speech. He was finally speaking to me.

“Do not leave. I not speak your language very good. It better if I stay quiet than make fool of self.”

I shook my head, “No, no. It’s better if you talk, so that others don’t misunderstand you. ...You probably got in here because you didn’t talk, did you?”

Xamür nodded. “Yes. I was told when little: do not speak when unsure, you may make fool of yourself. Not talking can help you.”

“But did whoever tell you this mention that there are times when talking can help you out more than staying silent?” I asked, sitting back down. When Xamür shook his head, I continued with, “Being silent got you landed in jail. It can also get you into bigger trouble than this.”

For the first time since I started talking to him, Xamür showed a hint of emotion, his lips curling into a frown.

“Why is that?”

A chuckle escaped me as I explained the different natures of people and how badly communication was needed for each person, because not everyone was patient enough or smart enough to read into other people’s actions alone.

“Will you... teach me?”

“To communicate?” I asked. “Certainly.”

Just then, Xamür smiled at me, the first smile I saw cross his face in all the visits I had with him. I couldn’t help but return it.

“And not only that, I’ll be your friend.”

The next time I came to visit, I brought books with me to help teach Xamür how to speak proper English. And after that, I brought over my mother, so that he could learn to talk with people other than me.

Talking with Xamür, getting to communicate with him, was far better than just watching him watch me. I learned many things about him. Not to mention, Mother enjoyed being out of the house and coming with me to visit Raoumi and Xamür. She finally got to talk to Raoumi after so many years Raoumi was in jail.

It is said that actions speak louder than words, but sometimes, that’s not always the case. Sometimes, just talking can get you places, and earn you a friend. For us, it was just the right kind of therapy.

Fin.

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Originally Finished: 16 September 2006