The Best Love Story

A Short Story

By Nana Dadzie Ghansah

Fifteen years ago Kobby Ebrams was diagnosed with Grade IV pancreatic cancer. A month after the diagnosis his wife walked out. She had every reason to.

He had nothing to lose then when he signed up for treatment with the at-the-time novel immunotherapy, Ginxicimab. Not only did he survive the treatment but he also beat the cancer.

Since that time, he spent one weekend every month reading to patients at the Hospice of St. Martin’s. He loved the anonymity even though every now and then a lucid patient would recognize him. This weekend would be one of those.

The reading sessions wore on his psyche but he willed himself each time. He had been there and could always draw on that experience for empathy towards the patients.

Like he always did, he arrived with coffee and donuts for the staff and then got his reading assignments. He brought his Kindle with him and that allowed him to have an extensive library of books to draw from. Sometimes, he made up stories.

Mrs. Lindsey handed him a sheet of paper with names and room numbers. He glanced at the sheet. He gasped. The sheet had only one name. The patient was 38-years old. He looked up at Mrs. Lindsey. She looked, wiping her eyes. He sighed and walked towards the room 301.

Room 301 was in the east wing of the hospice. The walk there went through beautiful shrubs and flowers and the beauty buoyed up his spirits a bit. He was at the door in less than 5 min. He knocked. A pleasant voice said, “Come in”.

He opened the door and walked in.

What struck him first was the smell of fresh flowers and then how well lit the room was. Then he saw her. She was not in her bed but rather sitting in an armchair by the window starring outside.

She turned around when she heard him enter the room. Kobby was struck by her beauty. Emaciated as she was, her chocolate brown skin still looked rich and her brown eyes held more life than he would have imagined.

He introduced himself as Kobby. She told him her name — she was called Abena. Then she asked him to take a seat. He did.

Abena was in pain but she had refused any narcotics. She wanted to be aware and able to soak in every last minute of what was left of her short life. Mrs. Lindsey had mentioned that they had someone come by to read to the patients. She had agreed to have the reader come by. She loved books and stories and even in her pain, would not miss a chance to hear a reading. She had wondered who the reader would be. Though she had not heard him read yet, she could not help but admire the tall, black and handsome man who walked in. He looked like he was in his early sixties. Something about him was very familiar but she could not put her finger on what it was. The damn pain. So excruciating.

“So how are you this morning?”, Abena asked.

Kobby was taken aback by the question.

“Fine and how are you holding up?”, he asked

“They say I have only a few days more”, she answered.

Then she sat up and leaned forward.

“I know you”, she said.

She closed her eyes and tossed he head side-to-side a few times and then it came to her.

“You are that writer who beat cancer, aren’t you?”, she asked as she opened her eyes.

Kobby nodded.

“Didn’t you win the Pulitzer for your last book?”, Abena asked.

“I did”, he answered.

“Well, congratulations!”, she said, all smiles.

“Thank you!” he replied, uncomfortable with all the attention.

“I have read your other books but that. I have not had much strength to read lately. I like your writing. It forces one to contemplate a lot at the end since you never seem to close your stories out. You always seem to want the reader to figure out the moral of the story…the essence of the narrative. I always thought your style was a bit like Chekhov’s”, she went on.

Kobby looked at her startled. Very few people picked up on that.

She went on smiling, “Once upon a time I was an editor”.

“Ah, that explains the insight. It was either that or you were a really avid reader”, Kobby said.

“Well, both. I really like your writing. It is different and seems to come from a place of emotion. You cannot hide it and that makes your stories good and rare”, she continued.

“Thank you so much”, Kobby said.

“Of all your books, you tell my favorite story in “Ripples on a Lake”. The way you bring out the lesson of cause and effect is just masterful. What is yours?”, she asked.

He had not read a word to her but Kobby was enjoying the conversation with Abena immensely. She was smart and very well-spoken. Besides, she did not seem to be daunted by her impending death.

“Do you mean my favorite story or book?”, Kobby asked smiling.

Abena thought for a minute and said, “Favorite story”.

Kobby sat quietly thinking. There was something warm and kind about Abena. She exuded the air of someone you could trust; someone who would understand. That is probably what made Kobby open up.

“My favorite story is titled “The Best Love Story” and it is unwritten but since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you”, Kobby said.

Kobby always wanted to be a writer. Even after finishing law school and passing the bar, all he thought of was writing. He dreamt of writing the next “Things Fall Apart” or even “In Search of Lost Time”. He landed a job with “The Times” after sending them two opinion pieces. Soon he had his own column. Then he married his college sweetheart, Ellen, and promised to write her the best love story ever.

His first book, “Ripples on a Lake” was not really a love story and Ellen did not mid at all. It was critically acclaimed and won him all sorts of awards. The twins and another book followed. Everything looked perfect. Ellen found a job with a non-profit that allowed her to have time for him and the kids. Then suddenly, Kobby hit a block. He just could not write to save his life. Even the pieces he wrote for his column fell flat. He started drinking. After an intervention by his family, he went to rehab.

When he returned, things were not the same anymore between him and Ellen. She had always been a person who did not show much emotion but this time, she was more distant. He got his column back at work but it also did not feel the same.

He had been working on a third book which he published around that time: “Cold Smiles”. It bombed. It was shortly after that that a female intern in the newsroom accused him of sexual harassment. He had not harassed her. Sure, he had made racy jokes in everyone’s presence… jokes he had always made and not directed at her but she took offense and reported him to HR. Suddenly other female employees said he made them uncomfortable with his jokes and attitude.

It was his word against theirs. Their word sounded more believable and he was let go. The firing devastated him but surprisingly, he did not hit the bottle. He found a job with an online media group and Ellen agreed to move to Atlanta. The twins went to college.

Shortly after moving to Atlanta, he started feeling unwell and losing weight for no reason. He had not seen a doctor in years. He looked and found one in the Emory System. One test followed the next. He kept all that away from Ellen. Then on one rainy day in April, he got the findings from the doctor. He had Stage IV pancreatic cancer. The room started to spin when he heard that. He had just turned 51. Somewhere in the fog that suddenly enveloped him, he thought he heard the doctor say the chances of him being alive in 5 years was 9%. He wondered what that even meant.

He could not remember how he even got from the doctor’s office home.

When Ellen came in later, she found him sitting alone in the living room with the lights off. He was mumbling to himself. She turned the light on which startled him. It must have been his demeanor because he saw a look on his wife’s face he did not see often — fear.

“What is wrong”, she asked in a soft tone.

“I have pancreatic cancer”, Kobby replied.

“O no!”, Ellen cried out and rushed over to him and wrapped her arms around him. For that instant, the warmth that existed between them once-upon-a-time was rekindled.

“What stage is it?”, Ellen asked.

“Stage IV. It has spread”, Kobby responded.

Ellen gasped.

“I won’t be around to get on your nerves much longer”, Kobby said as he looked at her smiling.

That made Ellen start sobbing. It was now Kobby’s turn to wrap his arms around Ellen.

They sat there for a while holding each other. It was like they both suddenly realized how fragile not only life was but also what the two of them had. Were they holding on to something that would not last?

The next few weeks were a blur for Kobby. Ellen wanted him to fight the disease. She wanted him to try all available therapy options. Kobby however, did not want to. Something he never told anyone was that he found life tiring and unfair. Ever since he was ousted out of the Times, that belief had grown. He did not think this life was worth living then it was really just one storm after the next. So, for him, the diagnosis offered a way out. He was actually relieved it would all be over soon…even if it would be painful. He did not think he was being selfish.

The kids were grown and avoided him mostly anyway. His marriage was struggling. Both his parents were dead and his siblings only contacted him when they needed money. No one would miss him. So the thought of trying out novel therapy options was out of the question. He refused to go for his follow-up.

One of the women in Ellen’s book club was married to an oncologist. She asked her husband to see Kobby. He missed the appointment. When Ellen found out she was livid.

She found him in his office staring into space when she walked in.

“Kobby Gyasi Ebrams, have you finally quit on me? Why didn’t you make the appointment with Dr. Tipton?”, she yelled.

“Because I don’t want to?”, Kobby replied defiantly.

“Are you kidding me? Are you just going to capitulate?”, she asked, her eyes blazing.

Kobby could not remember the last time he had seen her that angry. It was such a turn-on, he thought and smiled.

“What is there to smile about?”, she yelled at him.

“Look, Ellen, I am tired. This cancer is terminal. Why fight it. Let me enjoy my last few days and go in peace”, Kobby said calmly.

“Oh! Oh! So it is like that huh? You are just going to throw your hands up and die? Once upon a time, I fell in love with a fighter. I have watched the fight leave that man and now his shell sits in front of me and it breaks my heart. It breaks the kids’ heart”, Ellen said, starting to sob.

“I have cancer, Ellen! I cannot change that!”, Kobby screamed.

“Fight it! Try! Fight it! For the twins’ sake. For my sake”, Ellen said, the tears rolling down her face.

“Ellen, I cannot do this anymore…”, Kobby said.

“Many years ago you made me a promise. You promised to write me the best love story ever. I guess that is a promise you’ll never keep”, Ellen said. She turned and left the room. About half-an-hour later, she found him still in his office.

“Kobby, I am leaving. I cannot live with a man who refuses to fight. You can reach me on my phone when you really need me”, she said and walked away.

The days went by and Kobby was slowly starting to deteriorate. His appetite was bad and his abdomen and back hurt. He was lonely and afraid. He did not pick his calls and had become a hermit in his home. One of those days, he decided to go for a walk. It was hard but he felt he needed to get out of the house. About a mile from the house, he saw an old couple walking and holding hands. The woman looked weak and would lean into the man often. He caught up with them and asked if they needed help. They smiled at him and said they were ok. Out of curiosity, he asked,

“Are you husband and wife?”

They both nodded.

“How long have you been married?”, he inquired of them.

“Sixty-five years”, the man answered.

“How wonderful!” , Kobby exclaimed.

“Are you married, my son?”, asked the woman.

Kobby hesitated for a minute and then said, “For now”.

“Awww, is that why you look so sad? Whatever it is that happened, never forget that if you get through it, you will always have each other as support, then sometimes life’s winds are quite strong”, the old woman said to him. The old man nodded.

“Look at us. I support her sometimes and at other times, she supports me. We are a team”, the old man said.

“Thank you so much”, Kobby said.

The next day, he called the oncologist.

He saw him two days later. When Dr. Tipton saw him, he was so concerned that he had Kobby admitted for hydration. It was while he was in the hospital that he found out about the experimental drug. There were two centers doing the trials. One was on the West Coast. The other was at Vanderbilt, in Nashville. He opted for Nashville since it was closer. His younger sister lived there too.

The next week, one of his frat brothers drove him to his sister’s place in Nashville. He was scheduled to receive a treatment each week for 10 weeks…if his body could tolerate it. He tolerated the first three treatments well. Things went downhill after the fourth. His white count fell drastically and he went septic and ended up in an intensive care unit, intubated, ventilated and sedated. His sister was beside herself and overwhelmed. She did not have Ellen’s number. Luckily her daughter had the number of her cousins, Kobby’s twins. Through them, she reached Ellen.

The next day. Ellen was in Nashville. As Kobby’s life hung in a balance she never left his side. The twins arrived that Friday, stayed the weekend and left on the Monday after. After the 10th day, Kobby’s vitals signs started improving. He was off the ventilator by the 15th day.

Ellen drove him back home to Atlanta and nursed him slowly back till he got stronger. A month after they returned from Nashville, he went for a scan of his abdomen. The masses in his liver and pancreas were smaller. The one in his right lung was gone.

They returned to Nashville the next week to resume treatments. 6 months later, there was no tumor visible in any organ. His PET scan was clean. The scans were repeated a year later. No sign of the tumor.

Ellen did not tell him about the party but two weeks after those scans. She told him she was taking him to dinner. Well, she took him to the ballroom at the Westin for a surprise party. Everybody was there. Friends, family… even old colleagues from the Times and the team from Nashville. It was an amazing evening.

When Kobby finally had the chance to speak, he thanked everyone who had had a hand in his care. Then he turned to Ellen and said,

“Sweetie, on the day I proposed to you, I promised to write you the best love story. Along the line, I realized I did not really know what the best love story is supposed to look like. Then you showed me. This past year, you showed me. You showed me what true love means. A wise woman once told me that when life’s winds get stronger, it is so great to have someone to lean against. True love means being that support through thick and thin. Being that support when the other does not even deserve it. This past year your actions wrote the best love story I know. You showed me what love means. You showed me life is worth living if even one is enveloped in darkness. That hope is all we have. And love. How can I even match that? Thank you so much!”

Weeks later, cuddled in the living room together, Ellen asked Kobby, “Who was that wise old woman?” Kobby told her the story of the old couple.

“Have you seen them again since then?”, Ellen asked.

“No!”, Kobby answered.

“Is that why you changed your mind and decided to go for the treatment?”, Ellen asked.

“Maybe”, Kobby answered.

They both laughed.

“I thought you had left for good”, Kobby confessed.

“I thought so too”, Ellen revealed.

They looked at each other and kissed.

Kobby looked at Abena who sat in rapt attention, listening to his story.

“So, that is my favorite story”, he said.

“It is wonderful. How is Ellen”, Abena asked.

“She is wonderful”, Kobby replied.

“Thank you so much for sharing that. It gives me hope that the world I leave behind has glimmers of hope and is not as dark as I often thought”, Abena said.

“You have every reason to be cynical”, Kobby said.

“It is not the cancer. Not at all. That is just bad luck. Suffice it to say that I do not have a love story”, Abena said.

“I am sorry”, Kobby said.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault”, Abena said.

“May I ask a question?”, Kobby inquired.

“Sure”, Abena answered.

“Did you exhaust all the experimental treatments?”, Kobby asked.

Abena smiled.

“I knew that question was coming. You see, I am where you were, once upon a time. I just want to get out of here. Sure I am only 38 but what is the use when (like you said), it is one storm after the next, after the next. Besides. I do not have an ‘Ellen’”, Abena answered drily.

Kobby nodded sadly.

“Thanks for coming and for the story. Now I need to lie down”, Abena said.

“It was really nice meeting you”, Kobby said.

“Give me a hug before you leave”, Abena said.

Kobby hugged her emaciated body. He felt her chest heaving with sobs. He held her for a while as she sobbed. Finally, the sobbing subsided and he let her go, seating her gently in the chair. Kobby turned and walked out.

After the door closed, Abena waited about five minutes and then she reached for her phone which lay beside her. She turned it on and dialed a number. After four rings, someone picked up. Abena cleared her throat.

“HI, its Abena. Yes, I am at the hospice. Look, if it is not too late, I will like to try the therapy you suggested. Like an old man just told me, life is worth living if even one is enveloped in darkness. That hope is all we have. And love… ”

A mile away, Kobby was driving out of the hospice parking lot. His eyes were full of tears. He knew he was going to come back and inquire about that remarkable woman he had just met. He wished he could do something to help her. Little did he know…little did he know…