Dragging their wooden chair against the floor, Aaradhya sat at the dinner table. Steaming food stirred their stomach alive.

Behind them, their father brought the last plate to the small circular table. Behind him ornate crosses covered the walls, from crucifixes to normal Latin crosses. All around the house small crosses were hung on flower wallpapered walls. Aaradhya still remembered hanging the largest one near the front door because it was so heavy for six-year-old Aaradhya that they kept stumbling with it in their hands.

Pulling their heads down, eyes closed and fingers interlaced, Aaradhya's father began to say Grace. His voice was deep and unshaking as always, “Be present at our table, Lord. Let us say thanks for this meal and thanks to those who have prepared it today. Father, We have gathered to share a meal in Your honour. Thank You for putting us together as family, and thank You for this food. Amen.”

“Amen.” Aaradhya finished and dove into the meal. It was a simple meal of chicken curry since their father had spent the majority of the day planning next week's sermons and the upcoming outdoor movie night that Gamal did bi-yearly. Over a bed of white rice the flavourful and earthy scents urged Aaradhya’s stomach hungrily.

Their father took another bite of food, the yellow fluorescent light illuminated his dark skin like pale sunlight. Both him and Aaradhya looked so similar, their long aquiline noses and large cupid’s bows. Aaradhya also saw much of themselves in their father. Always a straight back full with confidence and bright white smiles with eyes that crinkled when they laughed. Their only difference was while their father was almost annoyingly outgoing somedays Aaradhya liked the quiet. Especially the dark quiet of their room.

Aaradhya didn’t remember much of their mother, she’d died in childbirth off of the island. Their father didn’t talk about her. The only reason Aaradhya knew what their mother looked like was because laid on their fathers side table was a small dilapidated photo of her. Priya Udayar. Based on the photo she was smart and liked to read since her arms were full with books. And she had wide bright eyes - Aaradhya always thought that that was the only thing they’d gotten from their mother as far as looks.

The photo, even with all its ridges had stuck in Aaradhya's mind from all the times they’d studied it under the dark and beneath the thin layer of their comforter.

“How was your first day back? Are they being accommodating because I can talk to Mr. Hughes-” Their father began to ramble, knowing everyone in town always made him a little boastful.

Aaradhya cut him off, “Appā, it was fine.” They chuckled, “Everyone was fine, other than the gawking.”

“Oh. Ok.” He took a breath out, “That’s good. What did you do in class?”

Aaradhya played with their food, eyes anywhere except for their father as they tried to remember what they’d done in class, “We’re talking about plants and their asexuality.”

His eyes narrowed, “That’s when the plants produce an identical plant to themselves? It's in things like onions, tulips and garlic, right?”

Aaradhya chuckled lightly, “Yes, appā.”

“Hey! I'm a Reverend, not a plant scientist. And anyways you’re the smart one out of us.”

Aaradhya’s smile faltered. If I am so smart, then why don’t I know why I feel like this? Why can’t I remember that night? What’s happening to me?

Dinner ended with empty plates and full stomachs.

*“*Do you want to wash or dry?”

“You washed last time, I’ll wash this time.” Aaradhya passed him the dish towel, red lines over white fabric.

“How courteous of you.” He mocked.

Filling the sink with water, Aaradhya watched it glide from the metallic faucet. It was the same faucet the house had come with. In the 60’s there had been a large fishing boom in Gamal, and so construction companies had built a rush of small homes for fisherman and their families. Most had been torn down or replaced and renovated but The Udayars was like a living time capsule. The skinny two story house had a conjoined kitchen and living room that at the back led to a cordoned off and dark staircase. The entire house was also full with blankets since the insulation the construction workers used was less effective than what they needed for Gamal.

Gliding their hands through the lukewarm water, Aaradhya scrubbed at the pans and plates as their fingers wrinkled over. Washing was better because if they held with their right hand it gave them more grip as their left hand wiped soap over the dishes.

Washing the dishes for the first time a few weeks after the cast was taken off was hard, the dishes kept slipping but, like most things, a couple tries and a few good deep breaths Aaradhya didn’t let anything stop them. They just wanted things to go back to a semblance of what things once were.

Which, based on today, wasn’t going to happen.

“Appā?”

“Yes?”

“What do you think angels really look like?” The water rushed over their wrist as they scrubbed the inside of a glass cup.

He stayed silent for a moment, his face scrunched up as though he was drawing the information from the crevices of his mind. “Angels… those are hard to describe. They don’t really have physical bodies. Sometimes they look partially human but in the Book of Ezekiel as you should know they can also have four faces. An ox, a lion, an eagle and a human. Their four wings aren’t that large and one set is used for flight while the other one covers their legs. Obviously there are different types of Angels; seraphims, cherubims, thrones, dominions, powers and principalities and Archangels like Michael.”

Aaradhya quietly sighed as a flashback of the creature that replaced Mr. Hughes’ frame replayed in their mind. He looked nothing like that. “So they don’t have scrolls, or like-bandages weaved around their limbs?”

Their father chuckled, “No. And no angels look like that. Where on Earth did you get that idea? Are you having those dreams again?” He set down the tea towel and pressed a warm and tender hand to Aaradhya’s forehead.

They swatted away his hand, “No. Again I’m fine. Just curious, I’m allowed to be curious, aren’t I?”

“Always.”

“And demons?” They asked, passing him another wet plate. “What do you think demons look like?”

“Demons? Demons are fallen angels that joined Satan and they don’t technically have an appearance. They can masquerade as anything. Though, that being said, in the Book of Revelation they have horns and are said to be ugly. If you’re really wondering so much, you should come and help out at Sunday School. I’m sure the kids miss you.”

With all the dishes done, Aaradhya grabbed their school bag from the foyer. The papers and books rustled as they threw it over their shoulder. “I’ll be upstairs doing my homework.” All those papers Kai had given to them sat still at the bottom of their bag. Aaradhya decided that they should try and take a crack at them.

With his thin glasses on, he nodded and continued reading.