The Tomato Can

The can of tomatoes had been there for three days. Last Friday, the stock boy had unpacked the case of cans and arranged them neatly on the shelf. Shoppers had taken some of them. One can in the top row was a bit shinier than its neighbors, as if eager to be taken. Its red and green label was a little brighter and straighter. It stood there silently. Waiting.

A short, bald man came down the aisle, looking at a small piece of paper and muttering to himself.

"Large can of tomatoes. Mmm....here." He took the can next to the shiny one and pushed his cart on down the aisle.

A young woman came a few minutes later. She chose the shiny can and put it in the cart between a loaf of bread and a can of creamed corn. It lay there, jiggling a little against the bread when the cart was in motion.

Jan Elliot set the bag of groceries down on the kitchen table and began putting them away. The can of tomatoes she left on the table along with a can of beans and a package of ground beef. She got out an onion and started peeling it, thinking about today's argument at the office.

Stan and Ralph argued constantly with each other about almost everything. She never had understood how they could be partners. Unfortunately, this time the argument was over her computer printer. Stan wanted to get a new one, and Ralph wanted to fix the old one. If things went the same way as they usually did, the disagreement would prevent a decision until she got so far behind in her work that customers would start complaining, and then both Stan and Ralph would blame her. She added the ground beef to the onions browning in the pan. For the hundredth time, she told herself she really ought to look around for another job.

She opened the can of tomatoes, dumped them into the blender, and set the can down on the sink. After whirling the tomatoes for a few seconds, she poured the resulting liquid into the pan and was looking in the spice cabinet for the chili powder when a car drove into the driveway. Bob was home.

"Hi, honey. Got out a few minutes early today. Hey, it smells good." He sniffed questioningly. "What's it gonna be?"

"Chili."

"Good. Guess I'll go change." He went into the bedroom.

Jan finished adding the spices, beans, and a little sugar to the pot of chili, stirred it thoroughly, and turned the fire down to simmer. She picked up the wrapper from the ground beef and turned to the sink for the tomato can. She frowned at the empty sink counter.

"I could have sworn I put that can there, but I guess I must have thrown it in the trash already." She shrugged and got two cans of beer out of the refrigerator. She and Bob could sit out on the back porch and talk while the chili was cooking.

That evening after washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, Jan sat down with a book. Bob was watching a TV program that didn't interest her. An hour later she put down the book and rubbed her eyes.

"I must be tired, Bob. I think I'll go to bed. I keep seeing a spot in front of my eyes, and I can't read."

Bob nodded, engrossed in the TV, and she left the living room.

Jan woke up the next morning before the alarm went off. She lay in bed, warm and drowsy, trying half heartedly to keep her eyes open.

That's funny," she thought. "There's a big mark on the wall. I don't remember seeing it last night." She frowned at it, wondering what it was. It was rectangular in shape, but she couldn't see it very well in the dim light.
She glanced at the clock beside the bed. With a shock she saw a dark rectangle nearly covering the face of the clock. She stared at it for a moment, and then turned to wake Bob. There was another rectangle on his pillow! Her eyes moved to Bob's face, and the rectangle moved with them.

"Oh! The rectangle is in my eyes, not on the pillow!" With a rush of fear, she remembered the spot in front of her eyes last night.

"Bob, wake up! Bob!"

"Hmm?" He rolled over sleepily.

"There's something wrong with my eyes! I kept seeing a spot last night when I was reading, and now it's bigger."

Bob sat up with a groan and snapped on the light by the bed. "A what? You're seeing spots? Do you have a headache or anything?"

"No, nothing. Just this big...." She stopped and looked confused. "Now that the light's on, I can see it better. It's red and green, and it's shaped like a rectangle. It looks like...well.... This is really crazy, but it looks just like a miniature can of tomatoes."

Bob groaned and flopped back on his pillow. "You really had me going there for a minute."

"No, really, I'm not kidding. It's there, and it looks just like a can of tomatoes. I don't know how to convince you when I'm having trouble believing it myself, but I see it. It's just like the one I used last night for the chili. It should be in the trash." Jan got out of bed and went into the kitchen. She was back in a few minutes.

"Bob, come and help me look for it. I can't find it, with this thing in front of my eyes."

"Well, OK, but if I ever hear one word about how you got me up first thing in the morning to look through the trash by telling me a completely ridiculous story you invented......." He stopped when he saw the expression on her face and got out of bed.

Bob had taken every single item of trash out of the bag in the kitchen and put it in a new bag. There was no tomato can. He looked all over the kitchen, under all the furniture, even in the refrigerator and in the cabinets. If it hadn't been for the look on his wife's face, he would have felt like a complete fool.

"It's not here, Honey."

Jan sat quietly at the kitchen table. She stared at the tabletop, at the rectangular shape which appeared to be sitting on it or embedded in it. "It's getting bigger. And it's rotating."

Bob didn't know what to say. This was getting too far from normal. He needed some help. "Let's go see a doctor. Maybe an eye doctor. There will be eye specialists at the hospital. Let's go there."

He urged Jan back to the bedroom, and they got dressed. On the way to the hospital, he drove into a fast food place and got them some breakfast to eat in the car. Jan ate quietly, with a preoccupied look on her face.

When they reached the hospital, the parking lot was quite full, but Bob found a place at the end near the street. He got out of the car and went around to Jan's side to help her out. She grabbed his arm and hung on as he shut her door.

"I can't see," she whispered. "The thing is so big now, I can't see around it. It's like it's right in front of my eyes, and I can read the list of ingredients and everything."

"Hang on to me, Honey. We'll get you into the hospital, and the doctors will know what to do." They began walking down the sidewalk toward the hospital entrance.

A large truck barreled down the street toward them, much faster than the speed limit. It swerved suddenly to avoid a dog and careened toward them with its tires screeching sideways as it swung around. The rear end of the truck hit a telephone pole with such force that the truck split open and its cargo flew out in all directions.

Bob grabbed Jan and pulled her away from the street. He felt her stumble and they fell to the ground. As the noise from the truck and the flying cargo subsided, Bob sat up and looked around. There were cardboard boxes and cans lying everywhere.

He leaned toward Jan to help her up. She was limp and face downward. He stared with growing horror at a can of tomatoes lying next to her head and a trickle of blood moving slowly from under her hidden face. He didn't hear the people shouting and running, coming from the hospital. A doctor reached his side and bent down to examine Jan. Bob didn't really hear the doctor give orders to the other people who had come to help, but he numbly followed them as they moved Jan onto a gurney and into the hospital.

It seemed hours before the doctor came to him in the hospital waiting room and told him Jan was dead, killed instantly by the heavy tomato can which had hit her between the eyes.

* * * * * * *

The shoppers moved up and down the aisles of the grocery store, selecting according to their lists or desires. The can of tomatoes stood in the stack with its fellows, but just a little shinier and brighter, as if eager to be taken. It stood there silently. Waiting.