"Okay, listen," Gabby grips her hand on Matty's shoulder, tight enough that her chipped pink nails are digging into his shoulder, "You don't have to help me with anything. I know what I'm doing, and all you have to do is sit in the waiting room. Got it?"
"I thought we were going to Hometown Buffet," Matty says, staring at the Planned Parenthood building across the parking lot.
Gabby hesitates, giving him one of her looks. "What? No."
"Okay," Matty agrees. "Well, the address you sent me redirected me to Hometown Buffet on Google Maps."
"Matty, I'm here to get an abortion and I need our insurance card."
"Oh," Matty blinks. Last night Gabby texted him about an urgent matter he needed to accompany her to, along with a quickly typed address. Now that he thinks about it, he's not sure why a Family Night deal at a two star buffet would be classified as urgent. "Alright. Cool."
Gabby pulls the keys to her 1996 Dodge Neon out of her hoodie pocket and locks her car. She says distractedly, jamming her finger on the button that barely works, "You're not going to ask about me getting an abortion?"
"No, but I'm going to ask what time we can get lunch. Last night George fed me cat food and it did not fill me up." Matty happens to live with his friend George who fills their food cabinets with a plethora of questionable food like funny-looking meat from the Chinese market and pet food. His mouth still tastes like glue and something fishy (George said it was canned tuna and it was close enough, to be fair).
Gabby begins to make her way to the entrance, shoving her sunglasses into her face. She's very insistent, and apparently reluctant to be seen getting an abortion with her brother, keeping her head low despite the clearly deserted, pothole-filled parking lot. Well, what is a cisgender guy supposed to do sitting in an abortion clinic? Make women uncomfortable? Matty remains mildly confused. "Get the card ready. Please."
Inside the clinic, Gabby faces the counter with her hands clenched over the strap of her leather bag. Matty is standing back a few feet, making sure to keep his distance—it's quite necessary, he thinks, because he's not a pregnant woman—while Gabby speaks to the receptionist. "Yes, I have insurance. Matty." Matty glances at the card for absolutely no reason, then back at Gabby. He hands it to her, attempting a smile. "Thanks," she nods subtly.
(Matty's never had to use their insurance, minus the time he went to the skate park and tripped over Ross's dirt bike, tearing his knee open so badly he needed stitches. Who brings a fucking dirt bike to a skate park? It doesn't matter though, because their dad pays for their insurance. Besides that, nothing else is paid for unless they beg for extra money; Matty always pays his rent late and has proven himself incompetent on multiple occasions, so he's sort of glad.)
"I'm going in soon," Gabby announces once she's done with paperwork. Matty's been staring at the TV monitor playing a muted episode of Jeopardy for at least the last ten minutes. "You can leave now."
"You said I should sit in the waiting room?"
"No, it's okay," Gabby says quickly, waving at him in the gesture she uses when she's about to kick him out of the room. "You can sit outside. Go get yourself some lunch."
"Okay, so what time—"
"Bye, I've gotta pee," Gabby interrupts him and begins to turn around. Matty frowns.
