It seemed logical to assume that she fell to her knees after the dizziness, but that was only a guess. What she did know was that when she fell, she did so toward a closed hospital door. The door was inset with glass in a long strip above the handle, the glass threaded with wire mesh. It was the kind of window meant for peeking in at patients. That glass was also quite reflective, and as she fell, her face was mere inches from the surface.
Within that faded reflection, she saw her own face, the remnants of the green flash haloing her hair. She also saw the doctor glancing back, a confused and pained look on his face. She saw Baby’s hand falling back to her side and away from the doctor. Her bag still clenched in that upraised fist, the girl had one finger extended, as if to touch the passing man.
And finally, she saw a green glow fading from Baby’s eyes.
Mel shook her head, realizing she was more than a little dizzy if she was seeing green. Seizure? Epilepsy? She’d heard of such things happening during seizures, hallucinations and halos of light. Running footsteps approached from the central desk, the kind that squeaked as rubber soles gripped very clean tile floors. Then the same nurse who had just checked them out was leaning over her.
“Are you alright, officer? Don’t try to get up,” Mel’s arm was gripped by strong hands. To someone else, the nurse shouted, “Get me a chair!”
Gripping the handle of the door in front of her, Mel tried to lever herself to her feet. Her arms were shaking. Being on her knees in a hospital corridor did nothing for her dignity, so she tried harder. The dizziness was fading quickly. It was, in fact, almost gone, though the shakes remained. She felt disconnected from the world around her, not entirely back in the land of non-dizzy and fully sensible people.
“I’m alright,” she said, getting to her feet with a huff generated by equal parts effort and embarrassment. The dizzy feeling had completely gone by the time she stood. Only the sensation that she wasn’t quite in the same world remained.
“I’m perfectly alright,” she said again. She thought her voice sounded more normal.
The nurse gazed into her face, as if assessing the truth of her assertion. She probably was, given her profession. The creases of concern in her face smoothed as she looked Mel over, telegraphing that there was nothing untoward to see. That was a relief.
“Well, you look fine,” the nurse said, then motioned to ask permission to touch Mel’s face. At Mel’s nod, she laid the backs of her cool fingers on Mel’s cheek, then her forehead. “You’re not too warm either. What happened? When did you last eat, officer?”
Glancing over at Baby, who appeared entirely undisturbed by the situation, Mel saw nothing except a young girl. No green flash. No fading, wrong-colored light in her eyes. Definitely an artifact of the dizzy spell then. The nurse’s face began to crease again at her delayed response, so she tried to think of the answer.
“I think I had a bag of chips last night,” she said, honestly not sure. There had been lunch yesterday, a burger and fries at her desk, but afterward?
The nurse pursed her lips. “Was it a big bag or little bag?”
“What?”
“Was it a big bag you buy at the grocery store or a snack bag from a vending machine?”
Mel tried to remember exactly what she’d eaten, but all she came up with was orange dust caked on her fingertips and her tongue rough from too much salt. “Vending machine size, probably.”
With an abrupt shake of her head at the persistent stupidity of cops when it came to dietary requirements, she shifted her expression to smile down at Baby. “Honey, would you mind sharing one of your cookies with this nice detective? She’s got low blood sugar.”
Without a word, Baby dug into her plastic bag of belongings and handed over the container. When the nurse lifted off the lid, revealing an array of frosted cookies in many colors, most with sprinkles, Baby pointed at one of them.
The nurse smiled, seemingly relieved to see this strange, quiet girl doing something so childlike as to pick out which cookie to give away. “This is the one you want to give her?”
Baby nodded. The nurse lifted out the designated cookie and poked it toward the detective’s face. “You eat this. Otherwise, I can’t let you drive with her. And you have to promise to stop and get real food as soon as you leave. Okay?”
Mel took the cookie, bit, and nodded obediently. It was only then she realized that the cookie was frosted in bright green.
Lunch with Baby
By the time they walked through the hospital doors into a bright day that hinted of the spring about to come, Mel realized she was well past simple hunger. That was too mild. She was starving. Ravenous was the word that came to mind. She’d never felt the need to use that particular word before, but it was the only word that fit what she felt at that moment.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, hoping the girl would say she was.
“Very. I could eat a horse,” Baby answered, not looking up.
Mel screwed up her face at that. “Yuck. I’ll pass on the horse, but I do know a really great restaurant nearby that should be open by the time we get there. Are you up for that?”
This time Baby did look at her. She wasn’t holding Mel’s hand anymore, but she still walked close by her side. Her lips turned up in the barest hint of a smile. “I’m fine. I’d adore a meal in a decent restaurant. It’s been ages.”
The way she said those words made Mel examine her
