My funny, tough, sweet and salty friend left us. We met working appliance sales at Sears on the brink of its demise. She was a phenomenal salesperson – knew  every thing about each appliance. She had been there 30 years and was younger than me! Loyal customers would only ever buy from her.

I totally sucked at appliance sales. She’d get frustrated with my questions and ineptitude. That’s why I was surprised when she started taking a liking to me.

The group dynamics were hilarious; we were a bunch of misfits clawing over top of each other to make a commission.  Except Lara. She didn’t have to claw. She was the queen. Over the two years that I worked there, we shared many laughs together. She taught me the amazing joy of dipping avocados in soy sauce.  We danced to the piped-in techno pop music overhead. I actually looked forward to my otherwise bleak, profitless shifts because of her.

In order to make a living, you had to make commissions which meant you had to make a certain number of sales. You got minimum wage otherwise. And most of us weren’t making many sales due to online shopping. Except Lara. She was always selling.

Folks would take hours of our time only to end up ordering online right in front of us, saving at most a few dollars. They’d then come to us for help when something went wrong with the order or product and we’d have to say sorry, we can’t help you. So, it almost made sense why we were a pack of cutthroats. Except for Lara.

Sears finally shut its doors at the 41st St mall in Santa Cruz and I figured I’d never see Lara again but again she surprised me and said “You’re my friend for life!” We stayed in touch mostly by phone and text. She didn’t have much experience with texting so when she finally discovered it, she was excited to send me pix and emoticons.

Lara landed a fantastic sales job at a boutique appliance shop in town while I struggled with part time jobs at local state parks. Then, her Mom passed away unexpectedly and she was devastated; they were very close. She cried when I took her a care package to her job. I never knew much about her life but I knew she was very loyal to her friends and had lost many of them. Her closest friend died right after her Mom and she was grief-stricken.

We met for lunch and stayed in touch after that but I began declining offers to socialize with “the old gang” from Sears because it was only her I liked and our lives were drifting apart. Soon, we were only exchanging the holiday and occasional  texts, cards and calls. But our affections remained real. I loved her.

Time went by until January 2022, she called me on New Years Day and said she almost died from stomach issues but was getting better and was back at work. We texted after that and she seemed good. More time went by. I didn’t check on her. She called and I was asleep so I texted her and only got a blank bubble as a response.

Still, I didn’t think much about it figuring she just spaced the response. I sent a Christmas card in 2023 and didn’t get one back. Finally, I started registering something was wrong. I sent a card asking if she was OK, telling her I was too chicken to call but I would soon.

Last week her boyfriend Rob wrote me a letter. At first I didn’t even know who it was from. Then I saw the horrifying sentence. We lost our beloved Lara on October 12, 2023. Apparently she suffered for over a year and a half. He included his land line. I called and he explained her decline. Stomach and legs. Legs quit holding her up after 30 years on the concrete sales floors of Sears. He also said she wasn’t the same after her Mom and dear friend died. He said she loved me very much and described her as “Hard but good.” That was Lara.

It’s hard to realize you weren’t there for someone. It’s hard to accept it’s too late. I’m sorry she suffered and I’m sorry I didn’t help. She was an awesome person. Goodbye and Godspeed, my sweet and salty friend Lara.