Steve would be the first to admit, it’s a dumb habit.
Something he picked up over a decade ago, when his friendship with Tommy and Carol was still new. He didn’t believe the superstition … but it was hard not to.
“You know apples know who you’re gonna marry,” Carol said over lunch one day.
Steve looked up from his meatloaf. It seemed a little silly to believe, but he believed in love at first sight, so why wouldn’t he believe that apples could hold a truth like that?
Tommy, on the other hand, didn’t believe it. He wrinkled his nose, “No they don’t!”
“Yes they do!” Carol huffed. “My sister told me so. You twist the stem and after each twist, you say a letter of the alphabet, and when it pops off, that’s the first letter of the person’s name you’re gonna marry!”
“That’s not true,” Tommy said. “You’re making that up.”
Carol frowned. “Fine! Don’t believe me.” She picked up her lunch tray and moved tables, sitting next to Heather and Tina.
“That’s totally fake,” Tommy said.
They both picked up their apples, twisting off the stems.
Tommy’s stem came off after three twists.
Steve’s came off after five.
All of fourth grade, Steve tried to figure it out. Could it be Emily or Elizabeth? Eleanor was a grade above him, and Emma was a grade below. He tried to figure it out, maybe even had a playground kiss or two, but nothing came out of his apple stem.
Any time he had an apple, he twisted the stem off, quietly reciting the alphabet until it came off.
Eventually, he forgot why he did it. Forgot to keep track of the letter he stopped on before taking a bite.
“Why do you do that?” Robin asked one day at Scoops Ahoy. “The alphabet thing.”
“Oh,” Steve looked at the stem pinched between his fingers. The reason was on the tip of his tongue, but he knew once he said it, Robin would find a reason to add another tally. He took a bite. “I don’t know actually.”
Robin frowned. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, caveman.”
Steve shrugged his shoulders, taking another bite of his apple. Robin dropped it, never asking Steve again.
But after Starcourt “burned” down, Robin picked up the habit too.
Reciting the alphabet as she twisted off the stem. She’d make it halfway through the alphabet before her stem would come off.
Steve’s stems never held on that strong.
Steve twisted the stem of his Granny Smith apple, the alphabet barely a whisper as the stem fell off.
“Is there a rhyme or reason for that?” Eddie asked. “Removing the stem like that?”
“Nope,” Robin said as she threw her stem towards Eddie. “It’s like playing with your food before you eat it.”
“With letters?” Eddie asked.
“Yeah,” Robin said. “I got to N. Steve hardly ever gets past E.”
It’s such a habit, he didn’t realize what letter he stopped on.
He turned to face Eddie and —
“It’s a soulmate thing,” Steve blurted out, not realizing he was interrupting whatever conversation Robin and Eddie were having. “A — soulmate. Yeah. You — uh — twist the stem. And whatever letter you land on is the person you’re supposed to marry.”
The three of them sat in silence, the stem pinched between Steve’s fingers as the center point of attention.
He lifted it up for emphasis.
“E,” he said. “It landed on E. Always landed on E.”
Eddie’s expression was unreadable.
Eddie leaped halfway onto the kitchen island, yanking an apple from the fruit center piece and started to twist the stem.
“What are you doing?” Robin asked, exasperated by his antics. “Did you just miss what Steve said?”
“Yes Robin, I heard exactly what he said.”
“Shouldn’t you be jumping for joy? Or you know, kissing him?”
Eddie raised the apple in his hands. “I gotta get to the letter S, give me a second.”
Steve found himself grinning over Eddie. A silly habit of picking apple stems actually paid off.
