.....discreetely...

In my last job, I was in charge of training the new people.
I was fucking fantastic at it. And also modest.


Part of it was my candor. Part of it was my charm.
The biggest part of it was my ability to say things truthfully, but always with a positive spin. And more often than not, a sexual innuendo.

To the new guys I trained, I had a certain speech.

It went like this:

It's natural that you have certain feelings for your trainer. You just have to realize that those feelings can't go anywhere.

Usually, they laughed.
Especially during training.

Whatever it was, I still to this day have no idea, but somehow, someway, I got close to every single one of them. They ended up wanting to have dinner, drinks, hang out. You get the point.

Don't get the idea that it's my looks. It's not. My gift is my persona. At my best, I'm un-made up, sleepy, sarcastic, unruly, unrepentant, naughty, and at my very best, hungover.

This didn't matter. Every person I trained, man or woman, wanted some Sal time.

One of the few guys I trained (the one I actually considered dating) was about 20. Younger, naive, and with the face of a young Johnny Depp.
I got pretty close to him, and one of the things he picked up about me was my love of Sinatra.

I loved that kid. He was so young, so full of life, and sometimes we'd do that thing where we would hear someone say something unintentionally funny, (like one of the old ladies telling another older lady that she was gonna do her, or something equally disgusting/hilarious) look at each other and laugh ourselves silly.

When I was stressed, he'd bring this little guitar to work and sing songs to me. Hilarious songs, where he'd swap words to include my name.

We even had this inside joke about a Tenacious D song. The song was called "Fuck Her Gently".

I'm gonna Fuck you softly
I'm gonna screw you gently
I'm gonna hump you sweetly
I'm gonna ball you discreetly

Our inside joke was that everytime we heard/saw/thought something sexual, we'd sing the word "discreetly" to each other.

Of course that evolved. Into : quietly, repeatedly, persistently, casually, jurassically, enthusiastically, frantically, masochistically... You get the point.

There was a whole river of sexual tension flowing between the two of us, like that river of slime in Ghostbusters II.

That made it all the worse when I knew he was going to get fired.
He just couldn't be on time.
It got so bad, that everyday, an hour before he was supposed to be at work, I'd call him until he woke up, then I'd call him until he made it into work.

That worked a little, but he always managed to be late.

One particular day, I'd heard the boss saying she was giving him his final write-up, so I kept calling him and calling him and calling him.
I was worried.
I didn't want him to get fired.

When he finally got to work that particular day, he was (of course) late. I was upset, and as soon as he walked in, I acted like a complete asshole.
I asked him why he always had to be late. I told him I was worried about him getting fired.
Blah, blah, blah.

Finally, after getting that all out of my system, we went down to the cafe to get a snack. A sandwich for him, and cappuccino for me.
As we're walking, he stops, grins at me, and tells me he'll meet me inside. Said he had to go get something out of his truck.

I walked down to the cafe, bought his sandwich, my coffee, and as I found a table for us to sit at, I saw him with a big package in his hands.
He walked over to the table, and handed me what was in his hands.

It was a portrait of Frank Sinatra. The exact portrait I'd wanted for a long time.

So, yeah. I felt like a complete asshole.
When he handed it to me, I saw his eyes light up, and I realized that not only had he come to be very close to my heart, but I was close to his.
It made me cry a little.
It had been a long time since I'd had anyone do something so thoughtful, so it got me right in the heart.
I remember hugging him, and just feeling so fucking happy, with this big shit eating grin on my face. I remember putting that picture up at my desk, so I could look at it every single day, to remind me of his thoughtfulness.

A few days after he gave me that picture, he got fired. And I went home and cried.

He was one of those great and wonderful people that passes through your life, making each day a little better, each moment of laughter a lot more wonderful.
When someone like that is gone, they leave a noticeable gap behind. The world is a little harsher, and their absence is noticed. It's missed.

I have no idea where I was going with this. I started off thinking about my training days, and somehow managed to start thinking about Jara.

Part of it is the fact I still have that picture of Frank Sinatra.
Everytime I look at it, I can't help but smile so hard it hurts.
For him.
For me.
For what he meant in my life, if only for a brief moment.

For me, Jara is a huge reminder of the wonderful things in life.
His laughter, his pure heart, his kindness, and his optimism. He touched my heart, and every moment spent with him was pure happiness.

I guess I just wanted to take the time to remember him, and what a great friend he was.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away