The Interpeter

Langston filled him in and Anderson said, "That's a tough one. I know how much working out means to you. When we were majors at Command and Staff College, you were in the gym at Quantico every time you had an hour free. And Ivan? I never had the opportunity to tell you how sorry I am about Kim."

Langston thanked him and told him about her struggle with cancer, her last request, and his marriage to Oksana.

"You old sonuvabitch! You landed yourself a hot young wife? You lucky bastard. No, check that. Luck is where opportunity and preparation meet. You kept yourself in great shape and made this happen so my congratulations. Is she taking good care of you while you're recovering?"

"She's better than a full-time nurse, Dave. I can't imagine getting through this without her. But there are issues that are just beyond my ability to fix and that shit's eatin' me up."

"Anything I can do to help, Ivan? Anything at all? If so, you just name it."

"I appreciate that, Dave. I really do. But I'm afraid this may be the first thing I can't solve and if you know me..."

"I do know you and I know how you get things done. Hell, if you hadn't resigned your command, you'd be wearing stars yourself. Everyone had you pegged as a shoe in to be a future Commandant."

"I don't know about that, but I do know I'd have given up everything I owned or had or could have ever dad or owned for that matter, to save Kim. And I'm pretty close to that same feeling with regard to my current situation. But I'll work this out. So no worries, Dave. And thanks for checking' in on me. It means a lot."

"We take care of our own, Marine. You know that. I'm here if you need anything. You won't be too proud to call, right?" Anderson asked knowing it'd be a cold day in hell before Langston asked anyone for their help.

"Of course I will. I'm not too proud to ask a fellow Marine for help when I need it," Langston said knowing it was lie but of the white variety.

The very next evening, there was a knock on the door just after 7:30. Oksana called out, "Keith? There's a Marine here in uniform."

"Let him in, honey. I'll be right there," Langston said as he drug himself out of bed.

Oksana opened the door and asked the young officer to come inside. "Please come in. I'm Oksana Langston. May I get you anything?" she asked as she showed him to the living room.

"No, ma'am," he said. "I'm Captain Mike McCarthy. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Langston."

"Keith will be out in a minute. Please have a seat."

The Marine stood until Langston hobbled in without his cane. "Hello, captain. I'm Keith Langston. What brings you here this late at night and in uniform?"

"Good evening, sir. I'm Captain McCarthy, General Anderson's aide. We spoke on the phone yesterday."

"Oh, sure! Have a seat. Can I get you a beer or anything?"

"No thank you, sir. I have to go back to work so I'll pass."

"Back to work? Does Dave ever give you any time off? Your wife can't be too happy with you working these kinds of hours."

"I'm a bachelor, sir. No time to date in this job I'm afraid. Sir, the general asked me to stop by and see if there was anything I could do to help with anything. You know, around the house or whatever you two might need. I could get a group of Marine volunteers to help out around here with pretty much anything, sir."

"Tell the general I appreciate the offer but everything is fine around here. Well, almost everything and the one thing that isn't squared away isn't something he can fix. So thank you, Mike, but no thanks."

"Very well, sir. In that case, if the colonel will excuse me?"

"He will if you'll call him Keith. And that beautiful young woman there—believe it or not—is my wife, Oksana."

"We met just a moment ago, sir." He nodded at Oksana and said, "Mrs. Langston. Again, it's a pleasure, ma'am."

Oksana laughed and said, "I don't think I can be older than you so it seems rather unusual to call me ma'am. I would like it if you called me Oksana."

"Okay. Oksana. Keith. It was a pleasure meeting you both."

Captain McCarthy opened the small notebook he was carrying and handed Langston his business card. It had his name: Captain Michael T. McCarthy and his work and cell phone numbers. "In case you ever do need anything, sir—sorry—Keith. You can call me anytime day or night."

"I promise not to call after 2100, Mike. But I will call should I think of anything. The grass will start growing again soon so unless I get one of those riding jobs, I may need a little help."

"Consider it done, sir."

"Mike. One more thing. I see you're wearing wings but you're also wearing contact lenses from what I can tell. Does that have anything to do with how an aviator ended up as the aide to a general officer at Parris Island of all things? Shouldn't you be flying?"

"Well, here's the deal. I was finishing my fourth year with a Hornet squadron at the Air Station when my last flight physical showed my vision had gotten worse for the second year in a row. I flew on a waiver the first year as I was borderline. The second time, I was grounded. That's about the time General Anderson called me. As you know, he was a former Air Group Commander and an aviator himself. He wanted a fellow Hornet driver working for him and captains don't tell brigadier generals 'no.' Besides, I couldn't fly and wasn't sure what else I wanted to do so this gave me time to think."

"And after a year of thinking, what have you decided, Mike?"

"I loved flying and I like the Marine Corps but I don't love it outside of the cockpit, so I'm leaving active duty—next week to be specific—and gonna try my hand at real estate. I'm enrolled in a class that starts next month so I'll just need to find a place to live in the interim."

"That explains a lot. Mystery solved. So you don't have a place lined up yet?"

"I'm in the BOQ (bachelor officers quarters) at Parris Island for now but no, I don't have a place lined up yet. Guess I should call a real estate agent."

Langston chuckled and said, "I know you're here to offer a hand to a fellow former aviator whose wings have also been clipped, but if I can help you in any way, just let me know."

"Will do, sir. Sorry, again—Keith."

With that, McCarthy said goodnight to Oksana and Langston leaving him sitting there on the couch when the first thoughts of a possible solution seeped into his brain.

The next morning Oksana helped him into the car for his first trip out of the house since the accident. Unfortunately, it was to see yet another doctor. He told her it was a follow-up on his back but he was actually seeing a urologist about this "limp dick" thing that was plaguing the hell out of him. She had some errands to run but insisted on seeing the doctor with her husband. Langston wasn't about to let her in on this and he did his own insisting until she relented and left him there alone after getting him checked in and seated.

He explained the general problem as well as the mild stabs of pain before the doctor did a complete exam. Much to his personal um...delight, that included a digital prostate exam that had Langston wearing a hospital gown bent over a bed and getting this guy's finger shoved up his ass. He'd had physicals before so he knew what to expect. What he didn't expect was for the uh—probe—to take so long. "What the hell, doc? You examining me or coming on to me?" Langston said after the urologist's finger stayed 3-4 times longer than normal.

"Mr. Langston? I want to do a needle biopsy while you're here. It's not at all uncommon for a man your age to have BHP or benign prostate hyperplasia. It's medical speak for an enlarged prostate. While it could be BHP, I did notice an irregularity on your prostate which concerns me and that's reason enough to do the biopsy.

He didn't mention any of this to Oksana when she picked him up. He told her he was making good progress with regard to his recovery and that he just had to keep taking it easy. That part was all true. He just omitted the part he didn't feel like sharing with her.

"Good," she said. "That's sound advice, and I'm going to make sure you follow it."

Four days later, Keith got a call from the urologist who asked him to come in and discuss the results of the biopsy with him. He didn't want to get Oksana involved so he made the appointment for the next afternoon at 2pm when she would be with her tutor at her house. He gave Mike McCarthy a call and asked if he could possibly give him a lift.

"I'll clear my schedule, Keith. The general's given me carte blanc where you're concerned so I'll be there."

The next hour reminded him of that fateful meeting with Dr. Hanson so many years ago. "I won't pull any punches, Mr. Langston. You have prostate cancer. While this isn't an aggressive form, it is serious but not life threatening. Most prostate cancers don't require surgery. Many of them don't require any treatment. They're so slow growing that most men die of something else later in life with the cancer having nothing to do with it. In your case, we're going to need to hit it hard with radiation for several weeks, but at this point, surgery isn't necessary. We'll need to do a PET scan to ensure the tumor is localized but we'll want to start radiation therapy regardless."

Langston looked out the window and then back at the urologist. "That explains the impotency."

"It does. The tumor has been growing very slowly and it's interfering with the nerves which are associated with getting an erection. I'm afraid the radiation is most likely only going to make that worse. That's not a certainty. Some men begin to regain sexual function in short order as the tumor shrinks and aren't bothered by the radiation. Only time will tell. The good news is there's every reason to believe we can keep this in check and let you get back to a normal life."

Langston was skeptical. Doctors always put forth the best-case scenario unless there was no hope as in Kim's case. "Give me the best-case, worst-case scenarios. And don't sugar coat it."

The doctor looked Langston directly in the eyes and said, "Best case? You could live out your normal life expectancy. Worst case? It just depends on whether there's been any metastasis and how you react to the radiation. If this has spread to your liver or your brain, we could be talking months. I'm reluctant to say anything more until have something definitive. I recommend we start first thing next week and we'll see how it goes. We can also do the PET scan then, too."

Langston didn't say much on the ride back home until they got near his development. "Mike?"

"Sir?"

"I know you're not married but do you have a girlfriend?"

"Not really. Hell, who am I kidding. No. No girlfriend. This job is insanely busy. I routinely work 75 hours a week and sometimes more. I haven't even been dating much this last year because of it. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Langston told him. "When Oksana found out you were single she said that would change very quickly if you wanted it to because you're a really nice-looking guy." He looked over at Mike and said, "I don't know about that but I'll take her word for it."

McCarthy laughed and said, "Well, that's quite a compliment coming from your wife, Keith." He looked over to gauge Langston's facial expression before saying, "You don't need me to tell you she's smokin' hot. But as far as a girlfriend goes, I'd like to find someone pretty soon. I'm 28 and although I'm not in any hurry, I could see myself settling down with the right girl in the not-too-distant future. Well, if I could ever get a day off to meet her, that is."

"The good news is you'll have plenty of time once you get away from this butt-boy job you're in." Marine aviators were notorious for giving one another endless amounts of shit.

"I prefer the term 'lap dog', but okay, butt-boy describes it pretty well," McCarthy said with a chuckle.

That evening Oksana asked him during dinner what he wanted to do for their anniversary this year. "It's coming up in a couple of months," she reminded him.

"Oh, right. I'm sorry. I've been so caught up in my own pity-party over this back injury thing I forgot all about it. I feel terrible. I mean, you've been my everything since I met you and hear I am sitting around—no, laying around—feeling sorry for myself. You deserve a so much better."

She got up then sat down in the chair right next to him. She took his hand and said, "You make it sound like you're not my everything, too. You've given me a life I could only dream of in Ukraine. I have everything any woman could want but most important of all, I have you. I have you and I have your love. This back injury is no little thing. It has been very big deal. How could you not spend all your time focusing on getting better? After all, I need you to get better, too."

She reached over and ran her hand across his crotch and said, "Because when you feel better, then I will be feeling better." She nuzzled up and started kissing his ear and stroking his cock. "Maybe I can make you feel better right now?"

He gently took her hand and lifted it up. "Oksana? Please don't. Okay?"

She pulled back. The look in her eyes was that of a very deep hurt. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to make you feel..."

Langston turned toward her and said, "I know. I love you so much and I want to make you happy. But that part of me isn't working right now and you have to consider the possibility it may never work again."

Oksana cut him off, "Don't even talk like that! This is temporary! Once your back is better, this will all go away. You'll see. And then you can 'make me happy' again. Just like you used to."

She began nuzzling him again. This time Langston turned and kissed her like he hadn't in quite some time. "Mmmm. I'm liking this...a lot," she said.

He kissed her again and then slowly made his way back to their bedroom where he performed his one and only trick. This time, however, Oksana stopped him after she was warmed up. She very carefully stood up, straddled her husband, then lowered herself over his face holding herself above him in a squat. "This is why I work out too," she said in a very sexy voice. As Langston licked and lapped, Oksana moaned and groaned. She used her fingers to augment his efforts and in less than a minute she fell forward using one hand to brace herself and the other to finish diddling her clit. Gasping, she lay down beside Langston and said, "That was very nice. One step at a time, no?"

Langston didn't bother mentioning there was no change on his end. He just said, "Yes, indeed. I'd forgotten how good your pussy tastes." Oksana purred and drifted off to sleep in his arms.

When he woke up, he sent Mike a text asking him if he could take him in for his first treatment on Monday. "Sure thing!" he texted back. Oksana would be at the gym for a spinning class with Lindsay. Afterwards, they hung out together for a couple of hours at her place.

Keith hobbled into the doctor's office after getting his vitals checked and there was another doctor with his urologist. "Keith, this is Dr. Ken Shepherd. Ken's an oncologist. He and I have have carefully looked at your biopsy results along with a radiologist. We won't know until we look at your PET scan but the preliminary results are encouraging. Specifically, if this hasn't metastasized; if there's been no spreading to other organs, this is a very treatable form of prostate cancer.

He had his first treatment involving targeted radiation immediately after the PET scan. While he was in recovery, which was only 30 minutes, Dr. Shepherd came and said, "Good news. The cancer is completely localized so we'll continue the radiation for four weeks then re-evaluate you."

On the way home, Langston was feeling a tremendous sense of relief. He was in a good mood for the first time since the accident at the gym. He thanked McCarthy for taking him again. "No problem. I'm glad to do it. I did talk to a realtor and I think I'm just gonna rent a place for the first year until I get myself established."

"Why don't you stay with us for a while? You know, just as an interim until you get your own place set up?"

"I can't do that. You guys don't need a third wheel hanging out at your place."

"Nonsense! The house is friggin' huge. We've got three spare bedrooms and you can have your choice of them plus your own bathroom. Besides, you'll be taking classes or out running or busy dating once you finish up at Parris Island, right? So how about at least joining us for dinner tomorrow night? We can discuss it then. Can you swing that?"

"I can. What time should I show up and what can I bring?"

"Let's say 1900 and a bottle of merlot. Not that cheap shit you rookie pilots drink. My wife has good taste, you know."

"Really? How'd she up with you then, Keith?" McCarthy shot back.

"Okay. Touche. Well done."

The Camry wasn't in the garage when McCarthy dropped him off so he wouldn't have to explain where he'd been. Just minutes later, he heard the garage close so he knew she was home. He kissed her hello and told her he'd invited Mike to dinner.

"Oh! That sounds wonderful. Does he have a date? If not, I want to invite Lindsay, too. You know, we can just say she happened to be here when he happened to be here and..."

"Hold on there, little Miss Matchmaker. Lindsay's a wonderful girl but I don't want to do that to Mike. He's a good guy and he can find his own girlfriends."

"That's true. He won't have any trouble with that. Okay, fine. If you want to see her stay alone for rest of her life who am I to judge?" Oksana pretended to be offended but knew Langston was right.

"She'll find someone and so will Mike. He said he's at that point where he'd be willing to settle down if he could find the right woman."

"I told you he's very cute guy. He will find cute girl when he's not working 24/7."

Oksana spent most of the day preparing her favorite Ukrainian dishes. Langston wouldn't normally eat them because they had so much fat in them so she rarely ever made them. It wasn't that they weren't delicious, it just wasn't the kind of food that went well with his lifestyle. He had no reason to say 'no' this time and he planned to eat everything she made. He'd lost a bunch of weight and even if he couldn't lift, he still had to eat.

The three of them spent a very enjoyable evening talking, laughing, and telling stories. Without trying to be to obvious, Langston tried to steer the conversation away from himself and back to either Oksana or McCarthy so they could learn as much about each other as possible. He was from a small town in Iowa and came from a good, solid family. He wasn't a religious man but respected those who were as long as the religion didn't advocate killing people for being infidels. He'd had his share of girlfriends from high school on but wasn't the kind of guy out "hunting strange." He tended to either bow out after a first date or get serious. Not marriage serious. He just wasn't generally looking for one-night stands although he made it clear in a polite way he wouldn't look a gift pussy in the lips—or something like that. Langston liked that but wondered if it might impact the way he'd react once he shared his—plan—with Mike. One step at a time. Dinner tonight and then something else—soon.

"I had a really great time, Keith. Oksana? Dinner was absolutely delicious! How do you say that in Russian?" he asked.

"Очень вкусно," she told him.

"Wow. That's a mouthful. I'll stick with delicious if that's okay," he said politely.

"Wait 'til you learn how to say 'hello' in Russian. Not 'hi' but 'hello.' 'Hi' is very simple. It's just привет which is pronounced 'pree-vyet.' But the word for hello will tie you in knots if you thought 'delicious' was hard to say."

"I guess it's a good thing Oksana speaks English so well. She hardly has any accent at all."