Mary collapsed onto the couch next to the apartment phone while Jubal put things away in the kitchen. Mechanically, she picked up the piece of paper where she had written the number for the hybrid hotline after Jubal handed her his notes. She stared at it for a long, long moment, then picked up the receiver and started dialing, making sure to keep her body loose and her breathing even. Panic helped nothing.

“Hybrid Helpers Hotline here! If you have questions, we have answers! If you have an emergency, please hang up and dial 911!” The voice on the other end had the kind of false cheer commonly found in the voices of people that answer phones for a living, are recorded by their bosses, and could be fired for any perceived lack of friendliness. She sounded like a recording.

“Um, I got this number from a government website about hybrids. My son just changed this morning, and I want to know, is it normal for his skin to change colors? Only, he’s turned grey from the waist down.” Mary’s voice had the kind of desperate waver that was commonly found in the voices of people who have just had unusually hard days, and have yet to see the end of the tunnel. She sounded like she was about to cry.

The woman on the other end of the phone became a bit quieter and calmer, more soothing and less mechanical.

“Oh, honey, that’s rough. Don’t worry, though, most hybrids have an unusual coloration. It’s not a sign of anything dangerous to your boy, and it can probably be covered by clothing if he finds it embarrassing.

“Do you need the number of a doctor licensed to take care of hybrids? If you give me your insurance information and location, I’m sure I can find one near you to help get your son registered and checked over.”

Mary nodded, then remembered that no one can see her over the phone.

“Yes, please,” she said. “I have a pen and paper with me right now.”

She spent some time giving the woman on the other end of the phone information, and promised to call back after Jubal had his first appointment with his new doctor if they had any follow up questions, or didn’t like the doctor. The hotline lady spent a similar amount of time asking questions, and finally provided Mary with the information that she needed to get her son looked over by a medical professional.

Mary carefully wrote down the number and address for Dr. Kennings while Jubal bustled around in the kitchen putting things away, occasionally clinking glass jars together in the refrigerator, sometimes running water to clean something.

“Can you help me get an appointment with her?” She asked the woman on the other end of the phone.

“Oh, definitely! Dr. Kennings has an opening this afternoon, around four, if that works for you. You’ll want to get there at least half an hour early to handle the new patient paperwork, but I should be able to set you up. I can handle the online portion right now, if you’ll answer a few questions.”

“I think I can do that.” Mary was nearly collapsed against the back of her couch in relief.

The next few minutes passed in a haze of questions, Mary writing down the occasional piece of information, hoping that it would be enough to get everything done later, when she could think clearly.

Mary hung up the phone and slumped over on the couch. Her head hurt, and she had no idea what she had just written down. She should get some sleep before driving anywhere, to help her focus, so she didn’t do anything dangerous while behind the wheel.

Jubal came in and sat down next to her.

He gave her a thumbs up. She gave him back his phone.

“All done in the kitchen?,” Mary asked.

Jubal nodded.

“I got you an appointment with a new doctor later today.”

She gave him the paper with her notes on it and hoped that he could make sense of it.

“I’m going to go lay down for a while.”

She stood up, a bit unsteady, and walked down the hall with great care to her bedroom, where she closed the door, removed her shoes, and collapsed into bed with all of her clothes on, sock clad feet sticking over the side of the mattress.

It took some wiggling, but she managed to get the covers out from under herself without falling out of the bed. Could she have gotten up, moved them, and then lay back down? Probably. Should she have? Definitely. Did she? Nah.

Mary closed her eyes and burrowed under the covers. It was time to sleep for a while, secure in the knowledge that her son would wake her up in time to get where they needed to go. He would probably have directions for her, too.