Wednesday.
Two days since physio, and Ninuo was already texting about coffee before I'd even parked for the school run.
Same café on Rowe Street. Same table, more or less, though someone else had claimed the corner one this time.
She had a little paper bag sitting by her cup before I'd even sat down. Passed it across without much ceremony — a bottle of Probio PCC, still sealed, my name on a sticky note stuck crooked to the lid.
Asked what it was for. She just said, "Your cut. Sort of."
Took me a second. Then it landed — the sponsor money from the fifteen roll-ons, the thing I'd told her flatly I didn't want, the thing neither of us had brought up again since.
She said she knew I'd say no to cash again, so she just spent it. On something she already knew I take anyway.
Sat there a second, bottle in both hands, not sure if I'd actually won that argument or just been out-manoeuvred by someone who listens better than I give her credit for.
Didn't argue this time. Just said thank you, properly, and put it in my bag.
Brought up Mum and Dad myself, not long after. The physio, the hip, Dad's knee doing its slow rolling walk out to the car. Asked her straight — if there was anything actually worth looking at, for the two of them.
She didn't hesitate. Went through it like she'd been waiting for the question.
Probio PCC first, same as what she'd just handed me — one capsule a day, she said, built to actually survive the trip down before it does anything for the gut. Then ReishiMax GLp®, a reishi extract she takes herself most mornings — general immune support, nothing dramatic, just a steady thing to have in the cupboard. Then Optimum Omega for the fish oil side of it — proper EPA and DHA, she said, easier on the stomach than the servo-brand ones Dad's been taking for years.
Offered to just buy the three herself, drop them round next week.
Said no before she'd finished the sentence. Told her again — send me the names, I'll order it myself, properly, my account, same as the roll-ons.
She let it go easily this time. Then added the other thing, the thing I hadn't quite braced for.
Said if I'm actually going to do this — sell it, not just use it — I should be taking the products myself first. Properly, not just knowing the names off a label. Because nobody believes a recommendation from someone who's only ever read about it. You believe the ones who've lived with it a while.
Sat with that longer than I meant to.
Told her, half laughing, that I was jealous — of how easily all of it sits in her, the names, the doses, which one her own mother finishes the bottle of. And underneath that, something plainer. Jealous of how sure of herself she sounded, saying all of it. I don't think I've ever recommended anything to anyone with that much certainty in my voice.
Mentioned Carol, near the end. Told her Carol wants to start too, exactly the way I have — just the buying and selling, nothing else, no team, no meetings.
Ninuo's face did the thing it does when she's genuinely pleased. Said the easiest way is to just send Carol my own link — she orders through that, and I get a small something back on it, same as Ninuo does off mine.
Wrote the word "link" down on the same receipt as everything else, then sat looking at it a while.
Something about it didn't sit right, the same way the sponsor money hadn't. Carol's not going to want to click through anything. She'll want to text me what she needs and have it turn up, same as the fish oil always has.
Told Ninuo I'd probably just order it for her myself, the plain way. She shrugged, said that works too, whatever's easier.
Drove home going over the names again, out loud, the way you rehearse something you're not sure you'll say right the first time out.