Darwin, MN by Feea Leifker

Three bars, one gas station and the largest ball of twine in the world. In this town of 284 people the world comes to you. Or, more accurately, the world comes, has a good laugh at the gigantic ball, and then they pass you by. It has only taken Rachel Olson ten of her seventeen years to realize this. She let out a self-indulgent sigh as she pulled her hopelessly straight blonde hair back into a ponytail. Standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom, she frowned at herself and smoothed the wrinkles of her pale yellow uniform. Her cell phone started to vibrate on the dresser near where she stood. She grabbed it hoping the Darwin Tavern had burned down and she wouldn’t have to work tonight.

“Ray, it’s Friday night babe!” her best friend Krissy screamed into the phone. “Lets go up to Litchfield, Matt’s brother bought us a keg. Let’s drink this fucking town away!”

Rachel groaned inside. “Yuck! I have to serve horny old men at the tavern tonight. I wish I could.”

“Well, call my cell when you get off and we’ll come get ya. It’ll, like, be a drunken adventure.”

After one last look into the mirror, Rachel stuck her tongue out at herself and rolled her eyes. She hopped downstairs, kissed her dad on his bald forehead and walked the two blocks to the Darwin Tavern, home of ‘steaks as big as your head.’ And, Rachel thought, whackos as far as one could see.

The Darwin Tavern was a small dark wood shack. The sign out front, hand painted in red and white, proudly proclaimed that it was Darwin’s number one eating establishment. The gravel of the unpaved parking lot crunched under Rachel’s feet as she approached the front door. Red and white petunias waved at her from their hanging baskets as she pulled open the front door. Inside, the atmosphere was dark and smoky. In typical mid-western fashion, all of the locals were midway through their suppers at five in the evening. She knew that the tourists, if there were to be any tonight, wouldn’t show their faces until after eight.

“Rachel you’re late!”

Her boss growled at her as Rachel pasted on a smile. Oh yippee, she thought to herself, Marge is in a great mood today. “Frank called in sick. You’re going to have to work the bar tonight. I’ll help cook.”

Ha, small victories, Rachel thought to herself. She loved working at the bar and talking to all the people that came through. She hated being flirted with by the men that played canasta with her father. Either way, at least she didn’t have to cook those huge steaks. She put her coat in the back room and tied on a faded blue apron.

The bar area of the restaurant was Rachel’s favorite. The counter was made of warm mahogany and adorned with classic brass rails. The stools were padded with deep blue cushions. The second stool from the left was torn, white stuffing spilling out as if it was running from the men that would soon cover it. It had looked the same for the two years since Rachel started working there. She liked to think about how many sorrows were drowned over the bar and how many friendships must have started. She smiled thinking how safe and comfortable her town could be. Behind the bar was a mirrored wall, allowing her to keep her eye on drunk men trying to scam free beer when she had her back turned, She busied herself preparing for the night to come, washing glasses, stocking beer, and filling the ice cooler.

“And how’s my favorite bartender doing tonight?” George’s familiar voice hummed as a bar stool grated against the floor. Rachel turned and smiled down at the little man. She felt bad for him sometimes. He wasn’t exactly a midget, but he was pretty short. He had been blessed… or cursed she thought… with a baby face. He was fifty, about her father’s age, yet it was hard to resist the urge to pinch his pudgy cheeks.

“Grain Belt?” She questioned

“No sweetie, I had a rough day. Old fashioned, whisky, sweet.”

Rachel’s eyebrows shot up. She had never once heard of George ordering hard alcohol. The ice dinged against the glass. She happily felt what she had come to know as ‘counselor mode’ come over her as she poured in the whisky, seltzer and grenadine. She plucked three cherries and added them to the drink because, well, more cherries would have made her feel better.

“You know I am here,” she said matter-of-factly. She knew if they wanted to talk they would. And, if they came, they almost always wanted to talk. She busied herself at the end of the bar, waiting for the whiskey to work its magic. She looked around her, shuddering as her eyes focused at the same people she always saw. They had no faces anymore. Tight, old jeans and plaid flannel were everywhere. John Deere was the only brand name they knew. She heard the clink of ice on an empty glass and she looked down at the end of the bar. George had gulped his first drink down and was ready for more. He ordered the same and she stayed close to him, waiting for the inevitable.

“You know,” he started, “I have watched you grow up.” He was right, but Rachel had no idea where this conversation was headed. “Your parents are great people. Your dad owns that sod company. They can afford for you to get out of here.” Rachel giggled awkwardly. The same old thing they always said. Save yourself, we couldn’t. Somehow, since she had heard that her whole life, it never really meant anything to her. Her father had been born, raised and married all within ten miles of this town. Her mom was from a town a few miles away, a little bigger but no less constraining. But, they were happy. She felt no need to give up her life. She loved hanging out with her friends; drinking the beer bought by her older brothers who worked at the same jobs they had in high school. She kept the same friends she had for as long as she can remember. Everyone she knew and cared about was here. So she said what she always did, not really meaning it at all, “For you, I’ll get out.” And then she thought silently, I’ll live the life you couldn’t.

Suddenly the front door of the bar closed with a slam and Rachel looked up. Eleanor, George’s wife, stormed into the bar. She was a large woman, about a deuce; deuce and a half Rachel thought quoting her favorite movie. The woman’s green flannel jumper hugged her tightly as she stomped over to the bar, her huge work boots thumping against the wooden floor.

“Well, golly” She muttered in her strong Midwestern accent. “I said to myself, well where has that George gone and sure enough, you betcha, you’re down here at the bar just drinkin’ away. Well, buddy, the cows don’t feed themselves do they?” George looked up and muttered something under his breath. Rachel quickly grabbed his drink and poured it out so Eleanor couldn’t tell what he had been drinking. Eleanor plopped herself down in the seat next to George. The seat groaned loudly under her enormous weight.

“Okay little girl, get me a Miller Lite and some of that fancy chex mix you got hiding over dere.” Rachel dutifully handed the woman a bottle of Miller Lite and a bowl of Gardettos. “Stupid kids! Don’t you think I don’t know what you kids are doin’ out dere, hey. I know what is up.”

“Honey,” George interrupted, “Rachel is a smart, kind girl. Leave her alone.” He finished quietly as she continued.

“You think yere so much better than us because yere parents buy you fancy clothes. Well, yere no better than us. You were born here and you’ll die here.” Rachel winced at the woman’s words. Somehow she didn’t like being told she wasn’t going to leave even more than that she should leave. She watched Eleanor chug her beer, leaving half of it running down her chin. Amazing how much flannel can absorb, Rachel thought. George’s wife gave her one last cruel stare and waddled out of the Tavern, George following sullenly. Rachel wasn’t sure what had just happened but it left a sick feeling in her stomach.

Two hours later Rachel bummed a cigarette from one of the men at the bar who didn’t know her. She took her break crouched outside, under the soft light of the coke machine in the back of the bar. She picked up her cell phone and called Krissy.

“Sorry to bitch, but tonight sucks! All I want is to be with you guys. Screw everyone for thinking they know what’s good for me. Let’s just get wasted tonight. Pick me up at midnight.” Rachel listened to Krissy’s already slurring voice say something which she probably intended to be reassuring. Rachel wasn’t reassured. After one last drag on the cigarette, she stomped it out under her foot, the last ember flying off under the coke machine.

By ten, Rachel had convinced Mr. Sauter not to divorce his wife, decided on an accurate punishment for Mr. Anderson’s son and helped Mr. Knoll complete his crossword puzzle. As she finally convinced Mr. Knoll that the real Vikings were not from Minnesota but rather one of the Nordic countries, an unfamiliar woman walked into the bar. High-heeled shoes tapped against the floor and the men turned automatically towards the source. She saw Mr. Sauter’s eyes slowly move up the thin woman’s long legs to focus on her obviously fake breasts. Rachel made it up farther and noticed the woman had a beautiful dark complexion and shiny black hair.

“Hi,” She smiled and seated herself confidently across from where Rachel was standing. “I’d like, um, how about a vodka tonic?” Rachel poured her drink and watched as the stranger managed to turn down the advances of every man in the room before they knew what hit them. She smiled to herself, envious of the power this woman possessed.

“So, did you come to visit the famous ball of twine?” Rachel questioned the woman as she topped the drink off with lime and pushed it across the counter. A deep, throaty giggle emerged out of the woman’s perfectly red lips.

“I’m actually visiting my parents. I grew up here a long time ago. It’s so weird to be back, I just needed a drink to make it easier.” Rachel nodded. She knew exactly what this woman meant. She could use a drink to make this town more interesting, too. “So, I’m Claire, what’s your name?” the woman asked Rachel. After Rachel responded, Claire’s face broke into a smile. “So, Rachel, just how old are you? Aren’t you supposed to be eighteen to work in a bar? You don’t look a day over sixteen!” Claire rambled on and Rachel smiled when necessary. She suddenly started paying attention when she heard the word Boston.

Boston was Rachel’s favorite city; at least she thought she would really like it. Boston seemed to have everything and this woman had actually been there. Rachel had left Minnesota twice, once for a trip with her parents to upper Michigan and the second time for her brother’s graduation trip to Disney World. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to go there!” Rachel exclaimed, no longer bored with the woman or her job.

“It’s beautiful,” the woman said. “I went to college there. The only one in my class to leave the state. I was really scared, but the city took me in. It’s different, you know, but I am happy in a way I don’t think I would have been if I stayed here.” Rachel nodded. She couldn’t imagine leaving Darwin. As much as she hated it, it was her home. The two women talked until midnight when the woman got up to leave. Rachel was mesmerized with what the woman had to say and who she had become. A car horn honked outside, interrupting their talk. Rachel knew her friends were here to rescue her. She ran into the back room and tore off her apron. Happily she skipped out to the dusty red pick-up truck. A beer popped out the window as Rachel grabbed for the door.

“CATCH-UP” a voice slurred and demanded her to slam the beer thrust at her. Rachel giggled, thinking nothing could be as great as that moment. She felt so free. Claire walked past shaking her head.

“I remember those days!” She said it with a smile but Rachel thought she caught something else in her voice.

Rachel got into the car next to Krissy and gleefully took a sip of the cold, bitter beverage. She stuck her hand out the window to wave goodbye to Claire as the truck’s wheels shot up gravel as they sped away. The car jolted to a stop at the last stop sign in town. Dan’s beer fell off of the dashboard and onto Krissy’s shirt.

“Dan!” Krissy screamed, “You ruined my new shirt. Why weren’t you watching the road? God, you SUCK.” Rachel didn’t know what to say. She suddenly needed to get out of the car. She knew this was not where she wanted to be.

“I’ve got to go guys, I forgot to do something at work.” Krissy shot her a confused stare as the truck sped away from Rachel, towards the party. Rachel walked alone in the dark towards Darwin. She was sorry she had lied to her best friend, but Krissy just wouldn’t understand how she was feeling. As Rachel got closer to town, she could see the red light of the coke machine guiding her. She felt a glow inside as she recognized the safe familiarity of home. But, perhaps home wasn’t the perfect place she had once thought it was. She thought of herself, getting out of the car and walking alone, making her own path. That night, she crawled into bed and switched off the light. A knowing smile crept over her face as she dreamed of Boston.