The Legend Of the Salt

An excerpt from a novel I'm writing called The Black Wind:

I waited for him outside the restaurant on the corner of 18th and Eighth trying to remember what he looked like. I met him a couple of days earlier at some bar uptown, a quick exchange, we wrote down our numbers and then made plans to meet for brunch.

Seth showed up a few minutes late wearing a tight t-shirt and a smile that revealed excitement. He was adorable.

We kissed hello, awkwardly aligning our cheeks, not sure which way the other was going. After a messy second attempt we both smiled, acknowledging our clumsiness, then gave way to a friendlier kiss.

Sparks.

“Should we go in?” he asked.

Inside, the hostess wore a rehearsed smile and makeup more suitable for a Saturday night.

“Two for brunch?"

She grabbed a couple of menus and took us through the maze of tables already filled with diners. I walked behind Seth wondering how long it had been since I’d been on a real date. I couldn’t remember. I’d had my one-night stands, those were never a problem in Chelsea. A walk down the block on any given day would practically guarantee more than one prospect. But dates, those were as rare as a perfect diamond.

It felt comfortable. We talked about our backgrounds and our families and living in New York. He mentioned that he'd recently moved to a new apartment and was excited about the prospect of finding a job. As he told me his life story, I couldn’t help but notice he had that freshness about him, that innocent sparkle that can only be seen in the faces of those who are still dreaming, those unaffected by the challenges of everyday struggle – not usually something I admired in people. And yet, he wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met before. If there was any arrogance or self entitlement in his voice I couldn’t hear it.

I had been on so many dates so long, so slow, the hands on my watch seemed to be going backwards. And here I was at 28, a grown man, mesmerized by a boy who looked at the world as if it were his own playground.

The meal arrived. Automatically, I reached for the salt, could never have enough of it in my food. Then, I passed the saltshaker to Seth.

“No thanks,” he said.

“No thanks?” I asked as if he had just refused a million dollars.

“I don’t really use salt on my eggs,” He explained. “I’m used to not having it, and since it’s really not that good for you…”

“Used to not having it?” I paused for a second, “You underestimate the power of salt.”

He shook his head, not following.

“Have you ever heard about the legend of the salt?” I asked, knowing perfectly well that he hadn’t. It was a story I had never told before.

“I’ll tell you,” I said, the saltshaker still in my hand. My microphone:

There once lived a king in a faraway kingdom, who had three daughters. They were his pride and joy.

One day the king woke from a terrible dream and in his head, a troubling question: he needed to know how much his daughters loved him.

As he sat in his throne, wrapped in a purple velvet cape, his golden scepter in his hand, he called upon his eldest. He asked her, “Daughter, daughter, how much do you love me?” She thought for a moment, and said, “I love you like gold.” The king was so happy with her answer, he thanked her for her love and built her a palace, made of 24-karate gold.

He called upon his second daughter. “Daughter, daughter,” he said. “How much do you love me?” She thought for a moment and said, “I love you like diamonds.” The king was so happy with her answer, he thanked her for her love and built her an even bigger palace all made of diamonds.

Then came the turn of his youngest daughter, his favorite daughter, the one he loved the most.“Daughter, daughter,“ the king said. “How much do you love me? Without a moments thought she answered, “I love you like salt.” The king was angry. He couldn’t believe it. “Is this how you repay my love? How dare you love me like salt?” And with that, he banished her from the kingdom, never to return.

That day, the king gave out two orders: never to utter his young daughter’s name in his presence; and to never use salt anywhere in his kingdom. Possession of it would punishable by death.

And so the country was cleaned of all its salt. Reservoirs were emptied and burnt and soon there was none of it to be found, not one grain.

From that moment on, food was without savor, bland and unappealing. People would spit out their dinner, unable to swallow. Their mood as foul as the food, for they could not enjoy a single meal. Even the king was frustrated, turning away his plate with a look of disgust on his face.

It was then he realized how much his youngest daughter really loved him. He understood that no amount of gold or diamonds or rubies or sapphires could ever compare to the savory taste of salt.

And so the king sent for his daughter, begging her forgiveness, and built her the biggest and most beautiful castle of all.

I finished my story and waited to see Seth’s reaction. He was quiet for a moment, expressionless. Then a smile emerged on his face, the way a whale surfeces from the depths, slow, grand, unmistakable.

“And that my friend is the power of salt,” I said, and went back to my eggs benedict.

Comments

[Chad Hunt]

I can't beleive there are no comments posted on this. It's such a cute story of first date conversation. Looking forward to reading it when it comes out. Is it Fantasy or Fiction. Perhaps autobiographical?

[ethan gray]

I know. Funny. I guess I should rethink the whole book thing. No this date happened, word by word (the rest of the book is mostly fiction). I can remember that date like it was yesterday. And that boy shattered my heart to pieces two years later.

[Chad Hunt]

Wheres that crazy glue ....

[Simon]

Wow, such a lovely story, I can almost feel the tension between you two. Would love to read more about it. Your ability to describe situations mostly by teling your feelings is great! And you're funny, too! What a mensch :-)

[ethan gray]

Thanks, Simon. Means a lot. There's more. A few chapters. We'll see. If I get more comments requesting maybe I'll post.

[SH]

You are such a good writer. Your descriptions are spare, but you manage to convey a lot of emotion by being economical and judicious. I like your style. It's frustrating that there aren't more gay writers like you out there (cause there sure are lots of readers who appreciate it and can't find enough of the stuff).

That said, I would have suggested ending at "eggs benedict." Make it a half-modest, half-basking in the POW! moment when you realize you've just blown your date's mind. The "and french fries" carries it out a wee bit more than is needed. Sorry (I hate unasked for criticism, but, really, it's not criticism--your writing is amazing).

[acrossdemiles]

Hi Ethan, I agree with SH. I wrote earlier saying that I love your blog, and I think it's cuz' you really can write. Unlike so many bloggers out there, you don't have to put down so many words to convey emotion or a good story. Keep up the great work. I'm loooking forward to your novel.

[Ed]

How's the novel coming along? Now that the Cock Hunter is out, I assume yours won't be too long from now?