Bubbles, or: My Diet Coke habit is killing me

    I drink too much Diet Coke. It’s become kind of a running joke at the house; my kid calls it “Mommy Juice,” which is probably better than the whole Mommy Juice Is Wine thing going around. It’s only cute the first couple times. At some point, you just need to call yourself an alcoholic. Anyway, Diet Coke is my vice. And I know, I know, that much caffeine isn’t good for my heart or my kidneys or my waistline, but it helps me get through the day. It's probably a not a good sign that I reach for a can when I get stressed or tired or bored, though.

    Anyway, this is to establish that it’s not unusual for Diet Coke cans to be rattling around near me and that I didn’t think a thing about it when there was a can on my desk at work. I just tossed it in the recycling and moved on with my day. I noticed it on the floor when I was heading out, so I tossed it in the recycling again. I’d probably just missed and then, like, missed that I missed, you know? I remember it went in the second time, though, because I did a little “Three points! The crowd goes wild” in my head. It's fun to have fun.

    The rest of the night was pretty normal. Went home, had dinner, turned on the on-call phone at ten. Went to bed, slept poorly because I get anxious about being on-call, answered the phone when it rang around one am. It was nothing unusual, police wanted an assist with a suicidal guy out in Bald Rock, but I had to stop in the office on the way for supplies. It’s always kind of creepy in there afterhours. The fluorescents are awful, but it’s better than darting in with the lights off. Shadows move in counterintuitive ways and the banging in adjoining businesses make me feel like I'm not alone. Sometimes the printer starts up when I walk by; the sudden brightness of the screen and the whir of the drum makes me jump. So I turned on the lights and there was a Diet Coke can on my desk again. 

    My first thought was a coworker had an extra and left it there for me, but it was empty. I picked it up to put in the recycling, but the heft was off, so I left it on my desk to dump when I got back. I grabbed my go-bag and left, turning off the lights and making sure the door locked behind me.

    I got back around 3 am, overtired and irritated and about to burst. It would be 4 before I got home and threw together a skeleton note, then I was scheduled to be back to work at 8. Ugh. I unlocked the front door, locked ita again behind me, and did a very fast tiny-step-walk to the bathroom. I know every public bathroom in the tricounty area, but none around here were open at 3 am, so I had to stop by the office. Figured I'd also drop off my bag since I was there anyway. 

    I fell while swiping into the employee area, failing to manage my bags while hurrying. I swung my weight to fall into the doorway rather than straight down, wobbling like one of those weighted clown punching bags as I slid into it. Luckily, the swipe hadn't caught, so the door held. My legs folded under me and I tried not to think about everything the clinic floor had known.

    Metal abruptly popped and un-popped next to me. Clink-clunk with a sharp grinding edge, echoing against the linoleum. During the day, you'd never hear it. Alone at night, it was deafening.

    A Diet Coke can rolled along the wall, dented slightly.

    "Darn it!" I pulled myself up, embarrassed. I had probably kicked it when I fell, even though I hadn't noticed it before. I rolled my shoulders and my ankles, making sure I hadn't hurt myself. Only my husband knew I was here and he was probably asleep. I'd put my location on the online tracker, but it's not like anyone was awake to monitor it. No-one would be on until 7 at the earliest. My phones were buried in my bag, which was under my right calf somehow. I stayed in that position, inner thigh and outer calf muscles strained, as I watched the can roll.

    Something was wrong with that can.

    The lettering was shaped generally correctly, red blocky print with smaller italics above, but it the words didn't quite work. It was like trying to read in a dream. The thing kept moving, then slowed. The tab was pulled around but the tear strip was closed. I scrambled up, positioning my right leg carefully, then swiped my card blindly against the reader. No way was I looking away from that thing. It began rolling again, click-clacking towards me. The tear strip smiled open and the pop-out moved slowly, revealing a void inside. It continued rolling towards me, gaining speed, and something biological extruded from the opening, then spasmed. It hit the wall and moved the can to the middle of the hallway. I tapped the sensor frantically with my card.

    When the door finally clicked open, I ran through and slammed it behind me. I pulled a chair in front of it, threw my go-bag on the chair, and ran through the staff kitchen to the bathroom. There was a towel under the freezer--it was broken again, leaking water, so I gave it a wide berth. I ran to the bathroom, yanked my pants off and pawed through my purse while on the toilet.

It was late and I was tired, but I was not losing it. The Diet Coke was a monster. I needed my phone.

    I found it at the bottom of my bag and put it in my jacket pocket, then got decent, spritzed some hand sanitizer, and opened the door. Charting could wait until tomorrow. I just wanted to get out of here. I stood in front of the bathroom door and breathed slowly for a moment, feeling the ground under my feet. I was grounded. I was a capable adult. I could stomp that can if I wanted! My nerves were jangling and tried to will the adrenaline away, slowing my thoughts so that my heartbeat would follow. All I had to do was leave. That was it. Calm. Ground beneath my feet. Deep breaths. Open the door, get my bag, move the chair, run. I could do that. Open, get, move, run. I felt better for having a plan: Open, get, move, run. Don't think of the strange tongue-thing that came out of the can. Don't let its uncanny roll replay in your head. It hasn't hurt you (yet). Just stick to the plan: open, get, move, run. I had my phone in my pocket, my keys in my hand, and my purse over my shoulder. I was ready.

    Open: done, easy.

    Get: I moved to the middle of the kitchen, staying away from the wet towel and small puddle, getting my bag off the chair and tucking it in the crook of my elbow.

    Move: There was nothing to move. I stood dumbly by the small break table, holding my bags. The chair wasn't in front of the door. I shouldn't have been able to reach my bag so quickly, but I had bacause the chair was in the wrong place.

    Run: I didn't. I stood there, staring at a Diet Coke can standing upright in the middle of the floor between the door to the hall and the fridge. It didn't have eyes, but I swear it was watching me. I stood frozen for what was felt like an eternity, but was probably only ten or twelve seconds in reality. The thing came back out of the can's hole, a strange muscle that caused it to fall over. It pulled itself along the floor, extending the tongue and then retracting it to move the can. I readied myself to kick it, but otherwise stayed stock-still, staring.

    It wasn't coming for me. I didn't know if it didn't see me, but it moved steadily to the water on the ground. The tongue-thing flattened, slurping water into the can. I kept watching, now fascinated and appalled rather than terrified. It was thirsty.

    I watched it take in water, then roll away, drops spilling from the lid. The door had closed, so I went over and opened it. The thing rolled down the hall, tongue now invisible, tear-strip now sealed. I lingered in the doorway, watching it turn the corner.

    And then it was gone. I didn't follow it, but I stayed in that doorway for another ten minutes, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. It felt like a dream, like I had seen something I was never meant to. Was it some kind of hermit crab, adapted to our waste? Something disguised? I'd never know.

    

    I stil drink Diet Coke. I still work on-call shifts and go into the office late. I've never seen it again, but I wonder about it often.

    What else are we missing?