Adoleszenz

The Problem with the Essay

Saturday afternoon, and Melcanne sat in her room, writing in her diary. She had been waiting for Moritz.... four hours ago... Melcanne came to the conclusion that Moritz's father hadn't let him out that morning, for reasons only one could think, and gave up waiting. She took to her two favourite pass times, reading and writing. 

'Something came to my mind, yesterday; shame. What is it's origin, and why does the youth get hounded by it's miserable shadow? Does  Fräulein Schmidt feel shame every time she sees that street cleaner she loves so dearly? Why are they deaf to everything their loins are telling them, until we grant a marriage?  Maybe not. In my mind, shame is the product of poor education, boys and girls get no chance to see each other, they cannot control themselves. Meanwhile, old Father Petersen preaches, all the time, that it is deeply rooted in our simple human nature, which is why I beg, every Sunday, sometimes with success, to not go to church-'

"Melcanne!" She shut her diary quickly. No one, not even Moritz, could read it.

"Yes, Mama?'

"Moritz is here to see you."

Moritz bounded into the room as soon as her mother called. "Moritz, where were you-"

"I'm sorry I'm so late. I yanked on a jacket, brush a comb through my hair, and ran like Hell to get here." Moritz looked down at the floor, in a guilty and ashamed way. 

"You slept through the day?" asked a confused and slightly humored Melcie. 

"I'm exhausted." he declared, sounding it, "I was up until three in the morning reading that essay of yours, until I couldn't see straight!"

"Oh my-! Here sit," she walked to her bed and knelt down beside it. "I'll roll you a smoke." She took out a small box from under her bed. Her mother knew she had tobacco, knowing Melcie didn't smoke, and didn't mind. But if Herr Gabor knew, Melcie would be in deep trouble. 

"Look at me!" Moritz almost screamed, as she got the box. "I'm trembling! Last night, I prayed like Christ in Gethsemane, 'Please God, give me consumption and take these stinky dreams away from me...'" He had his stands together, looking out Melcie's window, trembling so hard, it was like he was praying all over again.

Poor Melcie knew Moritz was being dead seroius about this, but she had to giggle. "I don't think anyone could of ignored that prayer!" She had to stop rolling the smoke, because she was shaking so much.  

"Melcie! I can't focus! I can't think!" He yelled back at her. "Now, everything seems, like..." He trailed off, embarrassed, "ummm... edgier... and feels... quiet clearly... and yet ever thing seems so strange!"

"But... all those illustrations I gave you... Surely they helped eliminate the dreams?"

Moritz looked her way, with a gaze of almost pure frustration. "THAT ONLY MULTIPLIED EVERY THING TEN TIMES!" He stalked towards her, slammed his hands down on Melcie's table, lent towards her, and almost whispered, "Instead of merely seeing stockings, I am now plagued by-" He stood up, checked the essay in his pocket, then looked back at her, "-clitoris and vagina!"

He quickily walked away, stuffing the essay away, as Melcie put her head in her palm. "Moritz... I'm sorry." She looked at his haunted face, a million miles away, "That essay didn't have the desirable eff-" She was cut off, as her mother opened the door, with a tray of tea.

"Here you go, you two. Tea." Frau Gabor put the tray down on the table, avoiding the tobacco, and kissed Melcie on the head, recieving a smile from her daughter. She turned to Moritz, beaming, "Herr Stiefel, how are you today?"

"Very well, Frau Gabor." He answered in a rush, looking down at his feet, on edge. 

"Yeeees..."