Chapter Fourteen: Gwen meets with a website designer, and Jaron offers her the perfect name for her site--Sweaters by Gwen Bjarnson.
photo by Leanne
Chapter Fifteen
Jaron and I waited four months—until the BC Day long weekend—to move the rest of my belongings into Jaron's one-bedroom apartment—on the top floor of a quaint heritage house. Cruising down Arbutus Street with Jaron cradling yarn in the passenger seat of the car-share, took us 13 minutes. The last four boxes we unloaded were all labelled, 'Yarn'. I tore open each box and ran my hand over the yarn. “It's okay. You're home.”
“You're so cute. Do you name them?”
“No need. They come named.” I directed his attention to the yarn band. “Don’t you remember your balls of yarn?”
We shared a smile as we recalled that day he’d walked into Urban Knits and into my life.
Books occupied most of the square footage in his small apartment. Stacks of unread and soon-to-be read were organized by title on a bookshelf that filled one wall. A tower of three books stood by his side of the bed. Some of the books he'd read—deemed too valuable to lend, sell, or give away—became furniture. A short squat table was constructed from four stacks of books and a rectangular piece of Plexiglas. Under this makeshift table was a plastic storage box—home to his writing projects. Two over-sized pillows serve as chairs. Somehow amongst all his books, we found room for all my yarn.
A Peruvian multi-coloured sweater was usually draped over the back of the futon. His other clothes—pairs of black and faded denim jeans; and bamboo/cotton blend shirts of crisp white, prairie gold, deep purple, and indigo blue—occupied a few hangers in the bedroom closet.
“You don't have any clothes,” I told him.
“Sure, I do.”
“You need more sweaters.”
“Absolutely.” He grinned.
