Movember Blues

By Allison Hay

Shutterstock / Vectoressa © Handsome man with moustache

Illustration: Shutterstock

UPLIFTING SHORT STORY BY JACQUI COOPER

Glen’s facial hair was giving Lindy second thoughts . . .

Lindy waited in the station car park, barely able to contain her excitement. There he was.

“Glen!” She waved with both arms, jumping up and down. Her husband’s face lit up when he saw her.

“You didn’t have to come and meet me.” He wrapped his arms around her.

He’d been gone five whole days and they’d only been married three months. Of course she had to meet him.

He pulled her close for a kiss, but she drew back at the last minute.

Wait… is that a moustache?

“Yes.” He rubbed his top lip. “Some guys on the course decided to grow one for Movember. I kind of got sucked in. What do you think?”

Glen had always been clean-shaven. Before marriage they’d talked about children and politics and where they saw themselves in ten years. Not once had the subject of moustaches come up.

“Movember? So, it’s for charity?” How could she tell him she hated moustaches? “It, er, suits you.”

“Really? I’m actually quite fond of it.”

Later, she texted her friend, Kirsten.

Glen has a moustache!

Oh no! Have you told him how you feel about them?

I can’t. It’s for charity.

Oh. What’s it like?

Just fluff at the moment, but I can tell it’s going to be terrible.

What will you do about your party?

I don’t know.

Her birthday party wasn’t until the end of the month. Maybe he’d get fed up with it before then. She hoped so.

As the days passed and the ’tache grew, Lindy began noticing moustaches on other men. Bushy, skinny, straggly. And universally horrible.

Glen, too, seemed to be obsessing.

“Should I go for Hercule Poirot? I kind of like the notion of twirling the ends.”

Lindy fled to the kitchen and did some deep breathing. It was one month. She could do this – without hurting his feelings.

Two weeks into Movember, they had tea with her parents.

“You’ve grown a moustache,” Lindy’s mum observed.

“For charity,” said Lindy quickly.

“I had a moustache once,” said her dad. “I have pictures somewhere.”

“No you don’t. I binned them.” Mum was still examining Glen . “Are you going for the Magnum P.I. look? Or Dr Hook?”

“I don’t know who they are.” He took out his phone and looked them up. “Oh! Not bad.” He showed Lindy the pictures.

“Lovely,” she gulped.

“I’ll get you a moustache trimmer for Christmas,” said Mum. “Then you can try different styles.”

“It’ll be gone by then,” said Lindy.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Glen. “I mean, yes, that was the plan. But since you seem to like it so much…”

How could Lindy let this continue?

“You do?” asked Dad, surprised. “Your mum hated mine. Said she kept seeing it and thinking something was crawling over my face.”

They were all looking at Lindy. Glen was so open and trusting that Lindy couldn’t bear to say anything negative.

“Lindy?” he said. “The other day you said it looked great.”

“Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?” She smiled through clenched teeth and changed the subject.

By the time her party rolled round on the twenty-seventh, she was resigned. Like Mum, she supposed she could just chuck the photos. Except that in this digital age that wasn’t really possible.

But on December the first, he’d get an ultimatum. The ’tache or his marriage.

Getting ready for the party, she slipped into her new dress.

“You look great, darling.” Glen dropped a kiss on her shoulder.

“Thank you. Wait! Your moustache. It’s gone.” She stared.

“I know. I shaved it off.”

“But it’s not the end of the month –” She quickly caught herself. “Whatever makes you happy, love.”

“You’re not too upset? I know you loved it. But it just wasn’t me.”

Was that a teasing light in his eyes?

“Well, I mean – I supported the charity effort, of course.”

Grinning, he handed her an envelope full of notes.

“The charity still gets the cash.”

But I don’t understand…

“Your mum told me long ago how you feel about moustaches. We set up a sweepstake to see how long you could stay quiet. Everyone was in on it.

“I thought you’d only last three days. Your mum thought you’d hold out for ten. Kirsten was set to win, but we agreed to end it on your birthday, regardless. We’ve all paid up and you can choose the charity. Consider it an extra birthday gift.”

She threw he arms around him.

“Oh my goodness, thank you.”

Losing that moustache was the best present ever.

Even better, they had twenty-seven days of kissing to make up for.