Tuesday.
Parcel came before nine — a day early by my count, maybe two, going by what I'd told her Monday night about Thursday being the earliest we could hope for.
Daughter had it open before I'd even put the kettle on.
Dug straight through it — past the roll-ons for the girls, past the spare tubes of sunscreen — until she found exactly one Scion® Roll On and one Sunright® sunscreen. Set them aside on the table, careful, like they might slide off if she wasn't watching.
Everything else, she just pushed toward me. "You sort the rest," she said, already halfway back to her room with the two in her hands.
Didn't say anything about it. Just noticed — six roll-ons and five sunscreens in that box, and only two of them got the careful treatment.
She was back at the table five minutes later, folder still shut, toast untouched. Asked if we could go out early tonight. Somewhere nice-ish, not home. Macquarie, maybe. And could we swing past somewhere after, for a proper bag — not a zip-lock.
Agreed before I'd worked out exactly what I was agreeing to.
No shop today — Tuesdays are mine, always have been since Mai and I sorted the roster out. Made the early dinner an easy yes, for once.
Left mid-afternoon, the two of us, drove to Macquarie Centre. Ended up at the little Japanese place near the food court — Dora, paper lanterns out front, always busier inside than it looks from the walkway. Split a bento, argued the whole time over tempura versus karaage. She won, mostly by finishing hers before I'd made my case properly.
Didn't bring up the tutor once, the whole meal. Neither did she. Talked about the girls' group chat instead — some argument over who'd edited what in the formal photos, nothing that would matter by tomorrow.
Found the gift bags after, in one of the homewares shops near the escalator. She went through nearly the whole rack — held one up, put it back, held up another. Cream, in the end, with a thin gold trim. Not the flashiest one there. Just the one she kept circling back to.
Asked, lightly, if that was the one. She nodded, more definite about it than she's been about most things lately — not the study timetable, not what she wants to do next year, none of it.
Didn't push on that either. Some things you let a seventeen-year-old keep to herself.
Paid before she could get her own wallet out. Small enough thing to let go.
Drove home with the bag sitting on her lap the whole way, seatbelt over the top of it, like it needed the extra protecting.
Put the roll-on and the sunscreen in herself once we were inside — wouldn't let me near that part either. Folded the top over twice, smoothed it flat with her hand.
Sitting on her desk now. Two days still, till Thursday.
No idea what she's actually planning to say, handing it over. Didn't ask. Some questions can wait for whichever day she decides to answer them on her own.