This came to light during a ride home from a visit with Jeroffsky’s mom, who was unaware that Wussman had received a big promotion at the DOT. After seven years working the front-line information desk, which answers general questions and administers eye and learner permit tests, Wussman was promoted to a full-fledged Auditor, with all the accompanying power to approve or deny the general public’s DOT-related business. So thrilled with the promotion, he arrived at the office thirty minutes early on his first day and, on a blank sheet of paper, practiced his technique for rejecting faulty paperwork with his “DENIED” stamp while muttering under his breath: “Not today bitch.” 

Questioning why Jeroffsky’s mother wouldn’t know about his promotion since she communicates with her nearly every day, and his new Auditor position had broad implications for the couple’s future, she said, “I guess we just don’t talk about you that much.” Asked what they talked about, she thought for a moment and spewed a litany of topics from their favorite contestants on The Voice to what they had for lunch to her work friend Renee’s continuing yeast infection problems. 

Frustrated by her response, Wussman said, “Okay, so you don’t talk about me. Do you think about me when I’m not around?”
It was more of a rhetorical than a real question, but Jeroffsky pondered it for a moment and said, “Not really, I guess.”
“Jesus Christ,” Wussman said, pounding the steering wheel. “What do you think about, then?”
“Well, Josh Allen. Like everyone, I think about Josh a lot. I wonder about that farm he grew up on. Isn’t California like a desert? How can you farm in California if it’s a desert?” She paused and thought some more, “Lately, I’ve been thinking about which shows I should binge on Netflix. Renee says I should watch the first two seasons of Squid Game before the next season comes out in March, but I don’t know; it looks dumb.
“This really hurts Jill. You think about Josh Allen and fucking Netflix more than me,” said a despondent Wussman.
Everyone around here thinks about Josh,” she said quietly.
Just then, “Come As You Are” by Nirvana came on the car radio, and Wussman said, “You know how much I love Nirvana. Do you think about me when you hear one of their songs?”
“Yes,” she said brightly. “But not this one.”
“Why not this one?”
“Well, junior year, I locked eyes with this kid named Billy Beener at a dance while this song was playing. One thing led to another, and we ended up in the athletic supply closet where, let’s say, we both got a vigirous work out on the pommel horse. That’s what I think of when I hear this song, but all the other Nirvana songs—you,” she said unconvincingly.

The couple drove the rest of the way home in silence.

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