 Recorded Books presents an unabridged recording of The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears by D. Naumangestu, narrated by Dion Graham and directed by George Davis. This book is copyrighted 2007 by D. Naumangestu. This recording is copyrighted 2008 by Recorded Books. Seventeen years ago, Sefa Stefanos fled the Ethiopian Revolution. Today, he runs a grocery store in a blighted neighborhood of Washington, D.C. Years ago, half a world away and still in the embrace of family and friends, Sefa couldn't have imagined himself living an isolated life in the United States. But when new neighbors arrive and his neighborhood begins to change, fresh difficulties and challenges await. And now, The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears. Chapter 1 At eight o'clock, Joseph and Kenneth come into the store. They come almost every Tuesday. It's become a routine among the three of us without our ever having acknowledged it as such. Sometimes only one of them comes. Sometimes neither of them. No questions are asked because nothing is expected. Chapter 2 Seventeen years ago, we were all new immigrants working as valets at the Capitol Hotel. According to the plaque outside the main entrance, the hotel was built to resemble the Medici's family house in Italy. On weekends, tourists lined the rooftop to stare at the snipers perched on the White House Roof. It was there that Kenneth became Ken the Kenyan and Joseph, Joe from the Congo. I was skinnier then than I am now, and as our manager said, I didn't need a nickname to remind him that I was Ethiopian. You closed the store early today? Kenneth asks as he walks in and glances at the empty aisles. He comes straight from his job, his suit coat still on despite the early May heat. His shirt is neatly pressed, and his tie is firmly fastened around his neck. Kenneth is an engineer who tries not to look like one. He believes in the power of a well-tailored suit to command the attention and respect of those who might not otherwise give him a second thought. Every week, he says the same thing when he walks in. He knows there's no humor in it, but he's come to believe that American men are so successful because they say the same thing over and over again. Don't take it from me, he said in his defense once. Listen to them. Every day, the same thing. Every day my boss comes in and he says to me, you're still fighting the good fight, Kenneth? And I put my fist in the air and say, still fighting. And he says, that's what I like to hear. He makes 90,000 a year, 90,000. So I say, you closed the store early today? And you say, fuck you. Fuck you, Ken. I say as the door closes behind him. He smiles gratefully at me whenever I say that. As much as Kenneth has ever needed anything in his life, he has needed order and predictability, small daily reassurances that the world is what it is, regardless of how flawed that may be. He has a small mouth with full lips that would be considered beautiful on a woman, but that on him come off as overly puckered. He's self-conscious about his teeth, which are slightly brown and bent in the same direction. Joseph pressed him once into saying why, even now with all that he earns, he has never had them fixed. Kenneth smiled a full wide smile for us before he responded. When he speaks in front of strangers, he buries his mouth behind his hand. He rubs his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger, making everything he is embarrassed about disappear. You can never forget where you came from if you have teeth as ugly as these. He said. He greened once more. He tapped a slightly brown front tooth for effect. Kenneth looks Kenyan. His skin is dark, his nose is long and thin, and yet his features are soft, almost delicate like a child's. He's six feet tall. But it's only in the past two years, since he got his job that he's ever weighed more than a hundred and fifty pounds. When he's drunk, he lifts up his shirt, blows out his stomach, and pats his protruding belly proudly. God bless America. He says with each pat. Only here can someone become the Buddha. I go to the back of the store and pull out the fold-up table and chairs the three of us always sit at. I have a sample complete. Ready to continue?