I never had unrealistic expectations in my
friendship with Peter. I knew we were worlds apart. However, I did think I would
meet him one day. That was something that could actually happen, but I never
dreamed of actually spending my life with him. However, I did want him to be a part
of it. But for the short period of time we did have together, he did more for me
than he ever knew....and that was enough.
Our separation came in a very cruel and
bizarre way. A very good friend of mine, who knew all my secrets and some of the
things I had to deal with at home, betrayed me to a few of 'the
girls'....and I discovered this when I was confronted by a few of them,
holding my precious letters from Peter. A few letters had no envelopes with
them, but one did. And
I was horrified. How on earth did they get those letters? My closest friends knew
how much Peter meant to me. I was able to talk to them when we discussed 'our
boyfriends'....because, in a way, I had one...and I could join right
in on the conversations. And now he was being used to hurt me. They were to
strike at the most sensitive area of my life....
The girls pulled my hair and held it tight
and told me they were going to write to Peter and tell him all kinds of things
about me. They said they were going to tell him what a really awful person I
was, and that he was being fooled by me. I was devastated. But I also kept it in
mind that sometimes they didn't go through with their threats. Sometimes they
just wanted to scare me. And I prayed that all they were going to do was scare
me...and that in a few days they would lose interest.
Well, a few days after that, my father, in
another drunken rage, ripped up many of my personal belongings. He wasn't
targeting Peter, he just wanted to rip up anything he got his hands on,
including some school books. He tore into some of Peter's letters....and they
were destroyed.
He never found my pictures from Peter, they were in a photo
album under my bed. That's why I still have them today. But gone were my chances
to write to him....all I could do was wait for another letter from him in order
to have his address again. For reasons I will never understand, I never wrote
his address down in my address book. I still have that book. All that's in it,
regarding Peter, is his birth date.
He never wrote to me again. I never heard from
him again. I missed him so bad. I needed him more than he knew. I wondered what had
happened, pushing from my mind that those girls had anything to do with it. I
never wanted to believe they would go that far. I guess I also never believed
they went through with it because they never approached me to brag about their
deed. I assumed that no news was good news, concerning them.
But, my Peter Scott never wrote
back.
I went to the Post Office for the next
several months, and came home empty handed. Each turn I took waiting at the
counter and watching the stack of letters being shuffled through became less
hopeful. What had happened? Did he find a girlfriend and can no longer write to
me? Did he move? Did he die somehow and no one would think to tell me?
These are the very questions that have been
in my mind for 30 years. Where is Peter today? Did he finally make it to the
United States? Why didn't he ever write to me again? And I certainly had no way
to reach him....my letters were gone forever. I never, not for one moment, was
angry at him or upset with him, I just wondered what had happened. And this was
yet another abandonment I had to accept.
I did a lot of living and a lot of
surviving in these 30 years. I pulled myself up by my own boot straps, and all
of that
torment that I dealt with made me choose to do one of two things....I was to either give into it, or
let it make me stronger...I'm stronger, in spite of what was done to me by
anyone. But I will never thank the cruel people in my life for that 'gift'....
I also know that what goes around, comes
around....you reap what you sow...and I wonder how many of "those
girls" ever sent their child off to school, wondering if they had to
face the same torment that they themselves inflicted on people like myself.
Perryville High School, with the exception
of a very few people, turned out the most cruel, vicious, cold-hearted, mean
people I have ever had the misfortune to meet. What they did to me scarred me
for the rest of my life.
When Susan talked to Peter, this is what he
told her as to why he could no longer write to me....
Oh, and he told me why he
never wrote back - he brought it up first. Ask him to tell you the whole story,
but you were right about that girl who wrote to him. Funny thing is, he never
finished reading the letter, because his headmaster found it and he got into BIG
trouble over it. His parents forbid him to ever write to you again. Of course,
it wasn't you - it was those nasty girls! Anyway, he said it was all a big joke
to him, but decided to do what his parents wanted. So, there you have it! All
one big misunderstanding. And I told him it wasn't you who wrote that, so now he
knows... :-)
When I read that, I was furious,
and I was hurt that those girls did that to me. They had everything in life
going for them, and all I had was Peter Scott....why didn't they let me have
the only person who really liked me? Why couldn't they let me have the only
person who made me feel good about myself? So, in spite of 30 years of hoping
they had nothing to do with Peter's absence in my life, they had something to
do with it.
I knew I would never be with Peter, and I
knew I would never date him, or kiss him or anything...but I had his
letters....and they brightened every day of my life when they arrived. Those
letters were the only ray of light in my dark world...and they even took that
from me. Not to mention the trouble Peter got into. I still don't know what
was in that letter....and I don't think I want to know...
The entire nine years I spent my life in
Perryville, Maryland, was torment after torment...and when I left that town,
everything changed for me. The kids at the other two schools where I attended
treated me totally different. I was respected, liked, included, approved of,
accepted, and made to feel good about myself. I was allowed to join in on
the "reindeer games".I never forgot Peter through all these
years...and I really wanted to find him and tell him what he did for me back
then...how much he helped me. I even remembered his birthday every year.
I wrote to the TV shows 'Unsolved
Mysteries' and 'Oprah', but no one picked my story up. I was
that serious about trying to find Peter. I just got my first computer almost
two years ago, so, I am just learning to try to "find" anyone....but
this time, Susan found me, and then she found Peter....who knew? You know, I
couldn't have 'written' it this good!!
So, here I am.... 30 years later, and
maybe Peter and I can continue being pen pals....and I hope those vicious,
wicked, mean, hateful girls read this and know the out-come. And they can only imagine what
we think
of them.... and what will be forever etched into my mind as to who and
what those girls were. I would never
want to be as cruel to someone else, as they were to me. There are no
excuses for being that cruel to me or to anyone.
I wonder if any of them could have lived
as well, or walked as well in two artificial legs. I wonder if they will ever
know how much courage it took to walk into a classroom or down a hallway, as
the kids snickered and laughed....and to be able to hear the comments being
said, or you catch a glimpse from the corner of your eye as a kid rushes from
behind them and begins to imitate 'the walk'....
I wonder if they can
imagine the humiliation of being pushed down and laughed at. I wonder if they
ever felt the loneliness of not being asked to join in, or be invited to
events, because of a handicap, always being made to feel 'left
out'....
And you know, to this very day, I avoid going to
malls because it's usually full of teenagers and the bad taste from my own
teenage years still linger in my mind. I dread walking anywhere near teenagers
and taking the chance of "re-living" those cruel days again. That
stuff never leaves your mind, not ever.
Could any of them have lived through all
of that? Then return home to endure more of the same, and in most cases, much
worse? Could they have lived like that? Would they have done better?
Do they know what it felt like to be
beat, have their bedrooms tore up, and then forced to clean it up before
bedtime ...only, bedtime never came, they only had enough time to get dressed
and go on to school, in physical and emotional pain... then endure the endless
torments of cruel school kids all day long, only to return home to more abuse?
I bet that to this day they can justify their actions. They would find a way
to tell themselves I deserved it somehow....that I brought it on myself.
And you know what's really ironic?...one
of the girls from 'the group' has a father who was a town policeman
at the time...and he was called out to our house several times because of the
screams from my sister and I as we were being beat.
This police officer would
take my sister and I outside and talk to us....try to 'pep talk'
us...I can remember this wonderful man talking so gently to us and we knew he
felt really bad about our situation. I wanted him to hug us....he was so kind
and not at all like my raging, drunk step-father, who was still in the house
drinking. And the very next day, in school, his owndaughter
would make fun of me and look down her nose at me....treating me like dirt.
And when I think of how many years I
really tired hard to be a friend of hers. Also, her mother was my Girl
Scout leader. I loved this girl's parents and would have done anything
to have parents like that. I bet she still hates me. She will never know just
how bad it really was for me then.
I don't care how old I am now, or ever will
be....I know this, they took from me the only thing I had that brought me
happiness. And while they were in their cozy homes with their loving parents
and their wonderful friends, I was living a hell I wouldn't wish on anyone.
They got to carry on with their day to day lives, knowing they took something
precious from me and never looked back to see or learn of the devastation they
caused.
Well, they all certainly had their day,
and they had their way with me....and now it's my turn to tell my side of it.
I worked through a lot of the pain in my life by writing, writing, writing.
When you're left out of everything, don't have a lot of friends, and
spend a lot of time alone, you have to do something to occupy your mind. So,
I'm a writer now. I guess no one counted on that, did they?
I wrote to Peter yesterday, February 2,
2001, and today. I
sent it email, and also snail mail, by printing out the letters. I am so
excited and can't wait to hear from him. It was so nice, after 30 years, to
put a letter in an 'air-mail' envelope and send it on to South
Africa. I'll keep this section up-dated, you can be sure.
I want to thank Susan
Venter and her friends Marizka and Pieter, for all they have
done in helping me to locate Peter. You know, it's like a quote I heard back
in November..."Don't be afraid to share your dreams, you never know who
will help you make them come true!"
I didn't intend for this section to be
about abuse, but I did want to drive the point home as to why Peter
meant so much to me and how he entered my life during a very hard time.....he made it easier....he made it bearable. This wasn't just a
garden-variety pen pal story, this was much more.....Peter helped me, this
small town girl, in
more ways than he ever knew. He provided an escape into normalcy.
Through all
that you have read about what my life was like then, you can see why he was
such a refreshing person to me. He will
never know the hours I spent thinking of him and thanking him for being such a
good friend to me.
Peter, you were, indeed....a knight in shining armor!
