I finally get a good look at his crucifix tattoo. The oval beads are different shades of brown from tan to mahogany. The “Our Father” is a square silver medal of the Holy Family, and the crucifix is Jesus on the cross with Mary Magdalene at his side, catching his blood in a chalice. The realization comes slowly, as if through a fog. I press the pads of my fingers to the beads. “I had a rosary like this.” My Nonna gave it to me for my First Communion. It was her mother’s. His pecs tense under my hand.
