Thursday.
Back at the shop after a day away. Mai had left everything exactly as I'd have left it, which is its own kind of kindness. Even the tape gun was back on its hook.
Quiet morning. Rain on and off — the kind of day Sydney does in October when it hasn't made up its mind.
A lady came in at ten past eleven with a list written on the back of an envelope. Fish oil, calcium, two tubs of lutein for her father in Chengdu. I boxed it all up and filled in the customs form while she told me about his knees and the price of everything here. Australia Post at noon, I said. It'll go today.
She thanked me three times. Left a packet of dried mango on the counter, no explanation.
Then nothing. Mai on the stool at the back, thumb moving on her phone, the little red glow of Xiaohongshu on her face. Me with a cloth and the same shelf of CoQ10, dusting what wasn't dusty.
Around two she put the phone down and looked at me. Properly, the way she does when she's about to ask about rosters or weekends.
You look different.
Told her I was tired. Mum, the HSC, the week.
No, she said. Still tired. But different. Drew a small circle in the air near her own cheek. Like someone turned the lights down a bit. In a good way.
Laughed. Didn't know what to do with that.
What are you using? Not nosy. Just asking.
Nothing special, I said. Which was true, as far as I could tell. A mask at night, some nights. A mist after. Things Ninuo has pushed into my hands over the months. Last night it was the Spa Day mask, on the couch, beside my daughter.
Didn't say it was the mask. I don't know that it's the mask. Could be Dad's soup. Could be the first half hour in a week when nobody needed anything from me. Said that too.
Mai nodded slowly. Picked at the corner of the price gun.
I never buy skincare online, she said. Not unless it's from someone I know. Last time I ordered an "official" serum off an app and it smelled like a swimming pool.
Then, with a shrug: But if you told me it was good, I'd try it.
Just like that. Casual, as if she were asking where I'd bought lunch.
Stood there with the cloth in my hand.
Penny, too, come to think of it. She never asked about percentages or ingredient lists. She asked what my parents take. What's in my kitchen. And my daughter's classmate didn't ask for a brand — only for what was in our hallway drawer.
All this time I'd thought the hard part would be the product. What to say about it, how to say it. Maybe it was never the product they were looking at.
Funny thing to learn behind a shelf of fish oil.
Mai went back to her phone. Then, not looking up: Don't make it a big thing. Just — if you ever have a spare one.
None of it is in the shop. Never has been. I wasn't about to start with a tub on the counter between the calcium and the CoQ10.
Said I'd see.
The rain started again. Out the back, the parcel scale beeped.
Didn't tell her what I was seeing, exactly.