Heritage
“Come and take a look at this!” Vincenzo heard his girlfriend call out from behind a shelf.
He could only see the top of her head, her messy blonde bun peeking over the row of hand carved wooden ducks. She tried to whisper, but Vincenzo could sense the pure excitement in her voice, seeping out and bouncing off the walls in the antique store. Vincenzo slipped his phone into his pocket and squeezed past the many rows of antiques — fur coats, old records, hundreds of teacups, vintage lamps, and every other trinket imaginable — until he arrived next to Stacey. Turning around to see what she was looking at, Vincenzo’s elbow caught hold of a toy train, sending it toppling over. He jerked forward just in time to save it from knocking over the row of tiny crystal brandy glasses next to it.
“I can’t believe you convinced me to come to this creepy place,” He fumbled with the toy train, trying to gently put it back on the shelf without disturbing the other items.
“I needed a few things for tomorrow’s photoshoot Vin,” She paused without looking up at him, and started moving items to the side in order to reach something at the back of the shelf. “Besides, aren’t you amazed with all this stuff?”
Vincenzo shrugged, looking blankly around him to the endless shelves of stuff. “It’s just a bunch of old garbage from old people who probably had a hoarding problem.” Stacey’s eyes fell on him.
“Not true! I bet every piece in here has a story. Everything in here came from somewhere, from someone. And every item in here will eventually go somewhere new, where someone will give it a new meaning.”
Her brown eyes were filled with wonder as she looked away from Vincenzo, and back to the rows of antiques stretching as far as her eyes could see. It was difficult not to feel her enthusiasm, it was utterly contagious to Vincenzo. He smiled at her, put his arm around her shoulders, and lightly kissed the top of her head.
“Show me what you found,” He nodded towards the item she was now holding in her hands. It was a radio. A small beige box, with three brown dials, a simple analog display for the stations, and a small gold plate with the word “HERITAGE” engraved on it. The whole thing was covered in a beige mesh for the speaker. It looked, and smelled, quite old.
“It’s a vintage radio. It’s perfect for what I need actually. Do you think it still works?” Stacey asked. Vincenzo mindlessly turned one of the dials.
“I could try and get it working for you,” He offered. Vincenzo was a sucker for a good fixer-upper challenge. He loved taking things apart and putting them back together. Stacey shoved the old radio into Vincenzo’s hands.
“I just need a few more things…” she disappeared behind another aisle, “… wow!” Her voice trailed off in the distance. Vincenzo looked down at the old radio in his hands. A curious feeling began to form in the pit of his stomach, leaving Vincenzo slightly unsettled. The gold plate caught a glimmer of light, and sparkled brightly up at Vincenzo, catching his eye, and greeting him with its story.
The light in Vincenzo’s garage flickered to life. His workshop was well-organized; every tool had its own place, every table was free from clutter and wiped clean from the dust. Vincenzo enjoyed the purity and neatness of the space, allowing him to focus on the task at hand. He set the old radio down on a metal working desk and stared at it. It was unusual for Vincenzo to hesitate like this — normally he barely waited to sit down before taking things apart. But this felt different. There was something about this radio that was drawing Vincenzo in, and he didn’t want to dismantle it just yet.
“Vin,” Stacey called out from the garage door. She was holding his phone in her hand. “Your dad is calling.”
Vincenzo snapped back into his consciousness and looked at Stacey. “Let it go to voicemail, I’ll call him later.”
“Are you sure? It’s been a while since you talked to him.”
“Yeah, I’m just about to get started working on the radio. I’ll ring him later.”
Stacey let out a quiet sigh, and retreated back into the house. Vincenzo turned his attention back to the radio. He inspected the dials. One for tuning the station, one for volume, and the last one was blank. Unmarked. Vincenzo plugged the radio in and turned the two marked dials. Nothing happened.
It’s busted, he said to himself, ready to start taking it apart. He looked at the third dial. I wonder what this one does. He gave the unmarked dial a firm spin, and the radio suddenly and unexpectedly sputtered to life.
After a few unpleasant moments of mumbled static noise, a voice sounded out and quickly filled the garage. It was the voice of an Italian woman, yelling out to her children.
Dinner! Bambini — venite a mangiare! Vincenzo! Isabella! Dinner is getting cold!
The sound of footsteps scurrying down the stairs and fumbling into the kitchen echoed out of the radio, followed by the laughter of two young children.
What am I listening to? Vincenzo thought to himself, confused. He leaned in closer to the radio, intrigued by the sounds coming out of the speaker so clearly it was as if they were right there in the garage, with him.
Angelo, amore, how was your day?
Vincenzo felt like he had been dropped into this stranger’s house and was now silently listening to their lives play out. The voices carried on, recounting the events of the day, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. And Vincenzo carried on listening, trying to understand what he was hearing. It felt wrong at first, and Vincenzo was tempted to turn it off. He felt like he was invading this family’s privacy. He thought about telling Stacey that the radio was broken beyond repair, and he could be done with it. But the more he listened, the more familiar the people on the radio became. So he carried on listening. And it went on for more than just one dinner; the radio would jump to other events in the family’s life. Birthdays, funerals, intimate moments, laughter, fear, other relatives coming in and out of the house — Vincenzo heard it all. He quickly became completely invested in learning more about who these people are. Or perhaps, were. Vincenzo couldn’t pin down if this was happening now, or was somehow a recording of the past. Then, someone said something on the radio, and Vincenzo’s face went pale.
Mama, meet your grandson: Matteo. And Maria is recovering well at home.
Vincenzo finally pieced it together in that moment, hearing those names put together. Matteo, the grandson mentioned on the radio, the one just born to Maria, was Vincenzo’s father. Maria was Vincenzo’s own grandmother, and the Vincenzo speaking on the radio, his own grandfather. Vincenzo remembered then that his father had told him he was named after his grandfather. This whole time he had been listening to the radio, he was learning about his grandfather’s life, his history, and about the heritage of his own family.
He grabbed the radio, eager to hear more. But it went silent instead. The feed ended at the birth of Vincenzo’s father. He realized he knew little of what would follow in his father’s life. It had brought him so much joy learning about his grandparents over the last few hours listening to the radio. A wave of guilt flooded over Vincenzo’s body, crushing his chest and filling him with remorse. He realized didn’t really know his own family, or where they came from. Truthfully, he never thought to ask. Vincenzo quickly got up and hurried into the house.
Stacey was sitting in the living room reading a book. “Did you get it working?” She asked, setting her book down and stretching like a cat slowly waking up from a long sunbathed nap.
“I’ll tell you everything. But first, do you have my phone? I have to call my dad.” Stacey reached into her pockets and handed Vincenzo his phone. “Thanks.”
Vincenzo dialled his father and started pacing the room.
“Dad, hey… I know, it’s been a while. Are you free for breakfast tomorrow morning? I want to catch up. Ask you about some stuff.” Vincenzo paused, waiting for his father’s reply. A broad smile grew on his face. “Great. I’ll bring Stacey, too. See you tomorrow.”
Stacey looked up at Vincenzo, slightly gaping.
“What did you hear on that radio? I’ve never seen you so eager to meet up with your dad.”
Vincenzo shoved his phone in his back pocket and grinned at Stacey. “Everything,” he said, “I finally heard everything.”
This was such a charming story to read. I love the inspiration behind it! You painted the scene in the antiques store incredibly well.
Really enjoyed this one! 🙌🏻