Visiting the captive

Today was visiting day for my daughter in captivity. Hubby had never been there and I, who has a very bad sense of direction, managed to remember the various highways and turnoffs in order to get there.

She was happy to see us and we stayed for 2 hours. It was sunny and warm on the grassy lawn. The 11 girls who are in the "secured" part of the place are contained in a small area, their rooms, their lounge, their diningroom and their lawn area, which has several picnic tables, two couch swings and a table for the girls to do their lessons outdoors. My daughter told us about the place - the big breakfasts with cheeses and salads, a meat lunch, and a light dinner. They had a party last Wednesday until 10 PM and a DJ was brought in. Sheesh. Sounds more like a teen's paradise to me than a court-ordered-reformatory.

There was one loud horrible newer girl there, yelling and screaming at everyone within earshot. Who is she? I had to know. Turns out that girl's 2 months pregnant and I wondered if she was going to keep the baby, if her relatives will keep the baby, or will she have to give the baby up for adoption. She acted totally dysfunctional. I also wanted to know if my daughter had enough aspirin for the headaches she's gonna get living together with this chick for the next 3 months. It looked like a reality tv set. 11 girls living together in a small area and they can not leave until they're there 5 weeks. There were 2 Palestinian girls there as well. They looked as sweet as pie. But so did my daughter who wasn't wearing a stitch of makeup. They don't leave mirrors in the rooms, to be on the safe side so the girls don't break them and try to hurt themselves or others with it. So there's just one communal mirror for them all. So that explained the lack of girls wearing makeup in that place.

She asked me to bring her a discman. We don't have one, but her little brother, ridden with guilt for his constant fighting with her over the computer, suggested he'd chip in for one for her. I wonder how much these girls can get out of their parents who are feeling bad for them being in lock up - even with good food and DJs.

She asked me to let her use my cellphone to call her boyfriend. "You know you're not allowed to! I don't want you to get in trouble and you have to listen to RULES!"

"Mom! Every mother when they visit lets their kids use the cellphone to call their friends. My friend even spoke to 5 of her friends. I haven't heard from him in so long and I miss him so much."

A week in this paradise slammer did seem like a year, even for me. I thought of Romeo and Juliet. Juliet was also 15, as my daughter, and Romeo was 17. I thought about their tragic ending. My daughter has this real Juliet-like passion for this guy who is a year older than her. I reluctantly dialed the cellphone hiding inside my purse. Then I put her head on my lap and let her talk to him for 2 minutes, just to tell him that she loves him and will see him when she gets out in 4 weeks. When she got off the phone she kissed me and told me that she loves me. I guess some rules just have to be broken.