All I Wanted was an Iced Latte

When I moved from the big bad city (where I grew up) to the small town I now live in, I didn’t realize how... well... small town it would be.

Everyone is no more than two degrees of separation from everyone else. You can’t flip someone off for not using their blinker because you might run into them at the elementary school later or on the soccer field on Saturday or at your neighbor’s barbecue. And that would be awkward.

But not as awkward as my day today.

A few months ago, a story went around about two people I know who may or may not have been having an affair. It was awful even to contemplate. And while the Us Weekly side of me wanted all the gory details, the rest of me wished I could just delete everything I’d already heard.

Whenever I would see one of them in town I’d have to carry on a casual conversation while simultaneously analyzing everything that was said by me and by them. Does he know that I know….? Does she know that I know that she knows that I know…? Like that Friends episode where Phoebe finds out about Monica and Chandler.

Rumors + Small Town = Bad Situation. The two people— who each maintain that nothing ever happened-- were sufficiently raked over the hot coals of gossip and J’accuse!-ers that they just stopped having anything to do with each other whatsoever.

And so it was that I was talking to “him” outside of Starbucks today, when who should happen down the street but “her.” Short of turning around and walking in the other direction, she had no choice but to stop and say hello. I was stuck standing between two people who really didn’t want to be standing anywhere near each other. And I felt like I couldn’t be the first to leave because any number of resident Gossip Girls might spot them and start new rumors flying.

I’m still cringing from my attempts at jollying along a normal conversation to avoid any lengthy silences. I can’t shake off the awkward.