On February 2, 2001 I heard
from Susan....and she more than made my day. I was sitting here at the computer,
typing an email to a friend, when I received an email from Susan, and the subject line read
'Guess what?'...and I knew...... I
just knew!
Sure enough, she found
Peter! Here is some of what she wrote to me (I
left out the personal information concerning Peter).
Hello Catt
I found your Peter
Scott!!!!!!!!!!! :-D
No joke, I promise! And, I
made sure it definitely is the right one. We just spoke over the phone for like
20 minutes. He called me earlier today, but I was out and then when I called him
when I got back, he was out....But let me start from the beginning...
Last Friday my friend's
boyfriend who lives in Johannesburg scanned me the page in the phone directory
with all the P. Scotts (I'm attaching the picture for you) and so he e-mailed it
to my friend, Marizka, and she forwarded it to me. Can you believe there's only
12 P. Scotts in Johannesburg?? So, I wrote a letter (also attached) and then
mailed it to each of the 12. That was Monday the 29th and today, the 2nd, he
called!!
(Have a look at the picture
- his name stands out from all the others and I told my mom - "I think
that's the guy I'm looking for." And wouldn't you know it, it was!
But, he only got that email
address yesterday - he's never sent an e-mail in his entire life, so let's hope
he can figure out how to send e-mails a.s.a.p.!
Okay, that's it. I can't
wait for you to get this e-mail, so I'm going to mail it in a minute. I hope I
made your day!
Bye, Susan
Oh, my God! My
heart was racing...and I was stunned. Is this for real? Am I dreaming? Is this
really happening? I knew Susan would never play a trick on me like this, but
my goodness! I was just stunned. And I was very surprised that there
were only 12 P.Scotts in the phone book. Johannesburg is a huge city. What
were the chances of Susan finding him for me? But she did!
And she wasn't kidding about his name
standing out...Susan sent the page in the phone book, just like she said, and
Peter's name was the only Peter Scott in the book that was in big bold
print....just screaming out to be found!
And Susan doesn't live far from Peter at
all....she's in the town of Bloemfontein, South
Africa...and it's the town on
this map that is circled. Johannesburg is situated on the right hand side,
just above Bloemfontein.
Susan actually talked to Peter on the
phone. She said he sounded really nice. And he was able to shed some light on
a few mysteries. First of all, I remembered Pretoria, South Africa because
that is where he went to school. So, now we understood why I remembered
Pretoria. Then he explained to her why he had to stop writing to me.
And now I'm going to tell the world.
Back when Peter and I were writing to
each other, I had a very hard home life. There were a lot of abuses that I
won't go into on my website. I'm saving all of that for my book. But it was
unimaginable.
On the outside, it may have looked
differently to others. When my parents wanted something, they bought it. We
had a swimming pool and other 'toys' and my mom had a beauty shop. And, when
I was 16 years old I was allowed to go to Europe with the French class. But
behind closed doors we were living a totally different life than what most
people realized. My parents were not as they seemed. Our house
was hell.
It was tense, abusive, harsh, cruel, and home was not a place I
wanted to be. There was no escape for me. I couldn't ride a bike, and running
away was out of the question. I
would not have gotten far. This
is a high school picture of one of the many times I was healing a swollen jaw. My
dad was no "picnic" to live with. He was a raging alcoholic and was very abusive
to me and my brother and sister. But never to the 'princess'
Christy....they worshiped her, and she could do no wrong. They
adopted her when she was four months old and I was 12 years old. So, we had to
have it rubbed in our faces how much she was loved, compared to us. You
can tell in this second picture that we were not
'happy'
girls...except for the princess. I'm in the red and Cindy is on the
right....and you know who is in the middle on a pedestal....as always.
The
contrast in the way we were treated was unbelievable.School was no better, I didn't want to be
there, either....the kids at school picked up where my parents left off. They
were also very cruel and mean. I went to Perryville High School in Perryville,
Maryland.
I wanted to be invisible, at times. And
as starved
for approval and attention as I was, I sometimes didn't want to be noticed. If I
stayed quiet, if I tried to blend in with the crowd, if I went to my classes
on time, and if were never late, then I wouldn't bring unwanted attention to
myself. Sometimes it worked. Other times, it didn't matter....if the kids felt
like teasing me, they did.
There was a pack of girls who were
'the group'...they had it all...great home-life, great friends,
great times at school....they had the latest hair styles, the latest
"must-have" clothes....they had popularity, security, boyfriends,
loving mothers, parties, good grades, events to attend, and some of them were
cheer-leaders.....they had everything.
I remember looking at them and
watching them...and longing to be like them. I wanted to be THAT secure, to
laugh THAT feely, to be THAT liked, to hold my head up, to be accepted, like they
were. I wanted to be among them, to be a part of them. And I was merely dirt to them.
I would sit and have to listen to them
plan their parties and events...the wonderful events that I was never to be invited to or be
a part of. I would also have to sit and listen to them tell of the wonderful
times they all had, once these events took place.
There would be all the loud laughing and
giggles, the "catch phrases", the inside jokes....and I was never to
be a part of that. I was someone they didn't like. They looked down
their noses at me like I was nothing. I've been slapped, pushed down, called
names, had my hair pulled, and made fun of. I would sit down at the wooden
school desks and read horrible things written about me....tasteless poems and
names... jokes... you name it.
When they were by themselves, they
treated me 'ok'...but when they were in their 'group', I
was teased and tormented. None of the boys I liked would have anything to do
with me. To be seen with me would have been a fate worse than death, according
to the boys I liked.
They would go steady with each of my
girlfriends, but never with me. A few of them would explain that once they
broke up with this girl, or that girl, that then they would go steady
with me....but that didn't happen. I was the school joke. I would be willing to bet that each and every
one of them today would deny it ever happened. But others knew it
happened....they saw it, too.
It was becoming so increasingly difficult
for me to trust
anyone...I was constantly betrayed by friends who were just as desperate to 'belong' as I was, and I was constantly set up for practical jokes. I
never knew I was being set up until it was too late.
One
of the cruel jokes played on me was to be asked to a big dance...I was
thrilled...and I got a nice dress, new shoes, had my hair fixed up ....and I
waited for a date who never showed up....he never came to get me. On Monday I
was laughed at by several boys who were in on it. I didn't live that one down
for years. Anyway, in this picture you can barely make out the last hint of
the black eye I had....my left eye. I was happy in this picture, believe it or
not....though I was waiting for nothing...but when this picture was taken, I still had
about 15 minutes before my date was to arrive.
And what made it really painful for me,
too, was that some of girl's mothers came into my mom's beauty shop, and they
really liked me. They would ask me to sing for them or play the organ...I
baked food and gave it to them, talked to them, hung on their every word, and
adored them. I longed to have a mother like that. But I could never tell those
ladies that while I was in school, their daughters were tormenting
me....mocking me, making fun of me, and hated me. They wouldn't have believed
me and my mom would have killed me. Mom never cared what anyone ever did to
me.
I would have done and said nearly anything
to get any attention from those girls, or from just about anyone. I was so
lonely, and none of them knew the hell I was having to go through every night
in that house. There were times I couldn't go to school because of the
bruises. And nothing stopped the cruelty I lived through in school or at
home. I looked much younger for my age, too, and that is really hard on a
teenage girl. All the other girls were developing right on time, and I had the
body of a 12 year old. So, I really had very low self-esteem.
I remember one very desperate thing I
did. It all started with my boy-crazy sister, not the 'princess',
but the other one. Anyway, she invited some boys over to the house one night
when mom and dad were going to be away for the evening. A few of them happened
to be the boyfriends of some of these girls from 'the group'. One
of them went upstairs with my sister, which left me downstairs with the rest
of the boys. One of them, another 'boyfriend' of one of the girls, tried to
put 'the move' on me...and I rejected him. I was scared to death. All he tried
to do was kiss me, but I wouldn't let him. They began to call me names and
make fun of me. They all finally left.
The next day in school, I told one of my
best friends about it. She said she was in a hurry, but for me to write it in a
letter and tell her all about it...and that's exactly what I did. And later on, I learned that she
gave 'the girls' my letter...it told what my sister did and what the 'one guy' tried to do with me, which was only to kiss me.
Well, that really set those girls off,
and in a big way. My best friend betrayed me....and this sort
of thing happened to me many times in school. She was just as desperate to be
'approved of' as I was, so, I never really held it against her,
though it did hurt me deeply.
We had 'study hall', which was
not a class, but could be used as a study period. We met in the music
room....and these 'girls' took over one of the 'sound proof' rooms. They made me go in there and tell them every minute of every
thing and every detail that went on that night. I was slapped, pushed, called
names, and had my hair pulled, as I re-told the events of that night. I was
humiliated....and I remember being called 'cheap entertainment' many
times....over and over.
This daily 'humiliation-fest'
went on for a long period of time, over the next several weeks. I went,
voluntarily into the room each day for my daily dose of humiliation. Why? Because I was that desperate to be among them. I am embarrassed today to
admit that I was that pathetic, but I was.
I wanted to be their friend so bad. So, I
guess in my mind, back then, having to go through their hell was better than not
being with them at all. Even if it meant sitting in that wooden chair in front
of them....all circled around me...as they called me names and openly laughed
in my face. They mocked me, imitated me walking, teased me, and humiliated me.
But, no matter what they were doing to me, I was with them. I was among them...I was in the sound
proof room with the girls I had always wanted to be friends with. It was
better than being on the outside of that glass room looking in at them.
Of course, you know I feel
differently today....I am not the pathetic, lonely, desperate girl
that I was back then. I know I may still have my share of problems, but somewhere along the way I
picked up some self-respect, dignity, and a life. And I have done some
wonderful things with my life, in spite of what I went through.
I am going to stop commenting on most of
all that, I really wanted to give you the "gist" of what it was
like for me at that time. No matter where I went, there were always awful
torments that followed. I knew of only one form of peace I could
find....instead of taking the school bus to school, I walked. I got up extra
early and walked all the way to school each morning, just shy of a mile. And I
walked all the way back home, too. When it was really bad weather, I did
ride
the bus, but not if I didn't have to.
When I walked to school, I could find some peace in my life....and other than the occasional
'drive-by
shouting' from the kids, it was the only peace I knew. No one was hurting
me, not while I walked to school. I was able to think, to not be in pain,
and nothurt.
I learned to walk really well in these two
wooden legs. I loved walking to school. It was better than starting my day
off being made fun of or called names. Home was bad enough, but school had
it's own brand of hell. I even had to be careful in answering the questions
asked by teachers in the classroom....any action from me sparked a new round
of harassment and ridicule. Most times I didn't raise my hand to answer
questions.
Enter: Peter Scott.....the most wonderful
young man I had ever met. He was kind and gentle. He gave me attention. He built
up my self-esteem. He made me feel special and really appreciated. Peter even sent me a ring...and I felt like
I had a boyfriend for the first time in my life. I went straight from my 'teen idol / David Cassidy' years right into Peter Scott. He was
real. And he didn't make fun of me or call me names. He didn't shun me because
of my legs.
I remember the day I knew I had to
write to him and tell him about my
legs....and I held my breath until he could write and tell me how he felt. His
response was so positive. Is it any wonder that he was my whole world
back then?
I remember going to the Post Office,
especially in the summer because you could check your mail twice a day. I
would be hoping
and praying for a letter from Peter. And I can still remember the smell
of the wood, the ink....and that wonderful 'Post Office smell'. I
would wait anxiously at the window as the clerk shuffled through the stack of
letters....does she have one for me?.....Did Peter write to me?.....I would
strain myself across that wooden counter, stretching to see if I could get a
glimpse of that familiar looking letter.
Yes!!!
There it was! The white envelope with the red, white, and blue border. She
would just hand me the letter, like she had done all day long with other
people, but she had no
idea what she was handing to me. She was giving me happiness and smiles.
I remember my heart pounding in my
chest and the excitement and 'butterflies' in my belly....the knot
in my throat....suppressed excitement...and I would hurry back home as fast as
I could so I could read of all that was going on with his life since his last
letter to me. Every letter from Peter was as exciting as the first letter he
ever wrote.
Peter wrote to me again!!
Nothing could go wrong now. And all I
wanted to do was hide out in my bedroom and get lost in his world. And all of my
cruel world, and all the people in it, would melt away and Peter spoke to me
through his written word. He soothed away the hurt and the abandonment, and
the betrayal of friends....he
was my friend. He had wonderful things to share with me. I would read and
re-read his letters many times, before the next one would arrive. I would
slide my fingers across the pages, where I knew he touched them. And I would
close my eyes and lightly press the letters to my cheeks. Peter was with
me.
Peter told me about his school, about his
life, his views on things of interest, his country, his dreams. He would tell
me jokes...and he gave me peace in my mind. He liked me.
He didn't know how unlikable I really
was. He didn't know that so many people hated me. And if I told him anything
at all, I'm sure I didn't tell him everything. He didn't know I was a bad
person who was always made to feel like dirt everywhere she went. He didn't
know I was the school joke. He didn't know how bad it was at home. I was
afraid that if he knew how bad it really was that he wouldn't like me
anymore...that he would know what everyone else seemed to already know...that
I was a bad person.
