Question

At the last minute Annie couldn't go. She was invaded by one of those twenty-four-hour flu bugs
that sent her to bed with a fever, moaning about the fact that she'd also have to break her date
with Handsome Harry Arnold that night. We call him Handsome Harry because he's actually
handsome, but he's also a nice guy, cool, and he doesn't treat me like Annie's kid brother, which I
am, but like a regular person. Anyway, I had to go to Lawnrest alone that afternoon. But first of
all I had to stand inspection. My mother lined me up against the wall. She stood there like a oneman firing squad, which is kind of funny because she's not like a man at all, she's very feminine,
and we have this great relationship -- I mean, I feel as if she really likes me. I realize that sounds
strange, but I know guys whose mothers love them and cook special stuff for them and worry
about them and all but there's something missing in their relationship.
Anyway. She frowned and started the routine.
"That hair," she said. Then admitted: "Well, at least you combed it."
I sighed. I have discovered that it's better to sigh than argue.
"And that moustache." She shook her head. "I still say a seventeen-year-old has no business
wearing a moustache."
"It's an experiment," I said. "I just wanted to see if I could grow one." To tell the truth, I had
proved my point about being able to grow a decent moustache, but I also had learned to like it.
"It's costing you money, Mike," she said.
"I know, I know."
The money was a reference to the movies. The Downtown Cinema has a special Friday night
offer -- half price admission for high school couples, seventeen or younger. But the woman in the
box office took one look at my moustache and charged me full price. Even when I showed her
my driver's license. She charged full admission for Cindy's ticket, too, which left me practically
broke and unable to take Cindy out for a hamburger with the crowd afterward. That didn’t help
matters, because Cindy has been getting impatient recently about things like the fact that I don't
own my own car and have to concentrate on my studies if I want to win that college scholarship,
for instance. Cindy wasn't exactly crazy about the moustache, either.
Now it was my mother's turn to sigh.
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"Look," I said, to cheer her up. "I'm thinking about shaving it off." Even though I wasn't.
Another discovery: You can build a way of life on postponement.
"Your grandmother probably won't even recognize you," she said. And I saw the shadow fall
across her face.
Let me tell you what the visit to Lawnrest was all about. My grandmother is seventy-three years
old. She is a resident -- which is supposed to be a better word than patient -- at the Lawnrest
Nursing Home. She used to make the greatest turkey dressing in the world and was a nut about
baseball and could even quote batting averages, for crying out loud. She always rooted for the
losers. She was in love with the Mets until they started to win. Now she has arteriosclerosis,
which the dictionary says is "a chronic disease characterized by abnormal thickening and
hardening of the arterial walls." Which really means that she can't live at home anymore or even
with us, and her memory has betrayed her as well as her body. She used to wander off and
sometimes didn't recognize people. My mother visits her all the time, driving the thirty miles to
Lawnrest almost every day. Because Annie was at home for semester break from college, we had
decided to make a special Saturday visit. Now Annie was in bed, groaning theatrically -- she's a
drama major -- but I told my mother I'd go anyway. I hadn't seen my grandmother since she'd
been admitted to Lawnrest. Besides, the place is located on the Southwest Turnpike, which
meant I could barrel along in my father's new Le Mans. My ambition was to see the speedometer
hit seventy-five. Ordinarily, I used the old station wagon, which can barely stagger up to fifty.
Frankly, I wasn't too crazy about visiting a nursing home. They reminded me of hospitals and
hospitals turn me off. I mean, the smell of ether makes me nauseous, and I feel faint at the sight
of blood.


Practice (page 4): Read paragraphs 1–13 of “The Moustache,” a short story by Robert Cormier. Then use what you have learned about the interaction of story elements to answer these questions. Write your answers in the provided space below.
Question
Answer
Question 1: How does the character of Annie affect the plot in this early part of the story?




Question 2: How does the setting of the story change between paragraph 1 and paragraph 13?


Question 3: How does the change affect Mike, the main character?

Answer 1

Question 1: Annie’s illness is the catalyst for the action in these opening paragraphs. Because she can’t go, Mike must make the visit to Lawnrest alone; that single change puts him in the position of being inspected by his mother, worrying about his moustache, driving his father’s Le Mans, and facing the nursing-home visit he otherwise might have avoided. In short, Annie’s absence sets the plot events and forces Mike to confront family responsibilities and his own feelings.

Question 2: The setting moves from the family home (the interior scene where his mother “lines [him] up against the wall” and inspects him) to the prospect of the outside world and the institution — the road (Southwest Turnpike) and the Lawnrest Nursing Home. The scene shifts from a private, domestic space to a public/institutional one.

Question 3: The change puts Mike in a conflicted state: he’s eager for independence and thrills (wanting to floor the Le Mans and hit 75), yet uneasy about the nursing-home visit (he dislikes hospitals, is squeamish about medical things, and worries his grandmother won’t recognize him). The move from home to the institutional visit forces him to balance bravado and avoidance with real emotional responsibility.