AS LONG AS SHE IS HAPPY ( By C.M. Lanning) - Cindies Short Story

“You ready to go?”
“You tell me, do I look ready to go?”
Barry sighed and looked her over. She looked great. She was wearing a tight green dress
that from every angle sang a song called “perfection.”
He smiled, and then frowned, closed his eyes, and quickly looked away.
She heard his neck pop as he quickly looked away, and she smiled. It was a subtle smile,
but it established that she was in charge. And not just because of the families that they came
from, but because without her,he had nothing. That thought always made her smile, but she
never held it over his head.
“Your silence means?”
“That you look ready to go,” Barry said.
“And how do I look?”
Barry said nothing, but scratched his head.
“You're stuck with me regardless of your answer Barry. You might as well spit it out,”
Claire said.
Coughing softly, Barry looked out the window and said quietly, “You look lovely.”



“I'm sorry, a little louder please?”
“You're ears aren't the problem, Claire, you heard me just fine,” Barry said.
Claire's grin grew a little wider as she said, “I suppose I've had enough fun with you for
now. Don't think that ends the excitement for today though.”
“Going to hear your father's will read is excitement?” Barry asked.
“Well, that's not the only stop we're making today,” Claire said.
“It isn't?”
“Obviously not. As soon as the will is read, we'll be heading to the bank. Then, I may
want to go shopping for all you know,” Claire said.
“Whatever you say,” he said, the mere thought of the events to come exhausting him.
Claire walked over to him and put her hands on his shirt. She felt around the shirt in
different areas.
He made no move, but tried to keep his heartbeat at a pace that didn't compete with that
of a humming bird. It was difficult to have Claire that close in a dress that looked that good. His
right hand twitched as her scent caught his attention. Claire was not one for powerful perfume.
She preferred to use subtle things that you had to be close to smell.
In this case, it was her strawberry shampoo. It was almost enough to drive Barry mad,
having her this close.
Barry knew exactly what she was doing. She had all of his shirts memorized. He had
forty-two of them, and she knew every detail of every one.
He also had twelve pairs of pants to go with those forty-two shirts. She knew every detail
of those as well. She never did check his shoes, because that would require her to be lower than
him as she bent down to check them. That was something she'd never do. She never allowed
herself to be below him at any time, and the two of them were always together.
They even slept in the same room at night. He was with her every second of the day, with
the exception of when she was in the bathroom. That was the nature of their relationship though;
it called for him to be everywhere she was.
“You're wearing the red shirt today. . . the one with the black stripes. She felt up to his
hair.
Now things got even more tricky. Her face was right in front of his, and he couldn’t move
a muscle. He couldn’t tense because then she’d know he was nervous, and if she got wind of that,
she’d start to tease him even more. He had to keep his breathing normal and his entire body
frozen but somewhat relaxed.
Claire Seles was the rich girl that Barry served, and she was the ultimate forbidden fruit.
Barry was both extremely protective of her and envious of any other guy she flirted with because
that guy didn’t have the same restrictions Barry did. Despite jealousy, he would never act on his
feelings. He had a job to do, after all. And that job always had to come first.
“Pull your hair back. This shirt looks better when your hair is up,” she said.
Though blind, she’d heard other people talk about how good Barry looked with his long
straight chestnut hair. She’d gotten good at creating mental images of how certain people looked
from hearing other people talk about their appearance.
“And how would you know that-”
She cut him off as she felt his pants. Her hands rested on his left thigh as she found a tiny
loose thread that characterized that particular pair of pants.
Barry let out an inaudible whimper when she placed her hand firmly on his thigh. He did
everything he could to keep his body from reacting in a sexual manner, a manner that would be
all too obvious, even to a blind girl.
“No, keep your hair down. I didn't realize you were wearing these pants,” she said.
It was always important to her that he look his best when they went out together, and she
did like to venture out a lot. That meant he was dressed nice most of the time. Barry grew up
hating “nice” clothes, but he eventually grew accustomed to them. He still enjoyed wearing jeans
a t-shirt on rainy days where Claire and he would lounge around the house and read books.
“Want me to get the car?”
“I'll come too,” she said.
She extended her hand, and Barry looked down at it, just the way it always was, and the
way he always thought it'd be.
Barry started to think of his father again. Time seemed to stand still as he thought of his
dad.
He had passed away more than five years ago. Barry was a teenager at the time, his father
had spent the last half of of his life working for Claire's family.
Barry and Claire had a couple things in common. First, both of their mothers had died
giving birth to them. Second, both of their fathers were now dead. Barry's father had died before
Claire's.
He couldn't remember who took their father's death harder. As Barry thought of his father
for a moment, one memory in particular appeared to him, and strangely, it wasn’t of his father. It
was when he was young . . . probably four or five. Barry just had a fight with Claire and stormed
away from her.
It was something stupid about where he was going to sit at her tea party. She placed him
next to the bear, but he wanted to sit next to her stuffed elephant. It was older and a faded-gray
color with some of the stuffing coming out of it, and one of the tusks were missing. The elephant
was also missing one of its black marble eyes. The animal belonged to Claire's mother when she
was a little girl, and it was quite the antique.
Claire had a particular order she wanted everyone to sit in. She placed Barry next to the
bear on purpose. . . she knew he liked playing with her elephant, but she also knew that Barry's
dad had told him to do whatever Claire told him.
When Barry stormed away from her, she started to cry and grasp the air for him. She
hollered for him to come back, but he was too angry. So, she sat outside and cried her faded little
eyes out.
“Dumb bossy Claire, why is she in charge?”
He sat in the library of the mansion Claire's father owned. His father always read to him
at night. Claire went to bed at 8:00, and Barry got to stay up until 8:30. Claire couldn't fall asleep
unless Barry was in the same room with her, but after she fell asleep, he quietly slipped out of the
room and went to the library. There, his dad would read to him. Poems mostly, but occasionally,
his dad would read him works of fiction as well.
His dad wasn't in the library, but Barry was determined to the make the most of the time
he was away from Claire. It was the first time he'd been away from her in a long time.
Claire's father quietly came in a few minutes after he did. Having heard his daughter’s
cries through an open window, he knew something was wrong. Claire and Barry would get into
arguments all the time, but she seldom cried while he was with her.
Barry sat staring at a page of a book. He knew what was on the page. . . it was the first
page of The Masque of the Red Death by Alexander Poe. He couldn't read it, but he could count
each minute he was away from Claire and stare at the pages.
“Do you know where Claire is?”
Barry didn't answer at first. . . he was scared. Claire's dad had never mistreated him, but
at the same time, Barry understood that Claire's father was his father's boss.
“She's out back. . . ,” Barry said, quietly.
“Why aren't you with her?”
“We had a fight. . ..”
“You know what your job is, don't you?”
“My job. . . it’s to stay with her forever. . .. that's what my dad said.”
“He described your job pretty well then. You know, Barry. . . Claire isn't like you. You
stormed off because you were angry. You were able to get up, leave her side, and walk away.”
“But she was mean. . . and she made me angry,” Barry said, crossing his arms. The very
thought of her made him want to scream.
“Don't you think there were times when she got angry?”
“So?”
“So. . . she couldn't get up and storm off, even if she wanted to.”
He hadn't thought of it like that before. Barry felt guilty now for what he'd done. . . even
if she was being mean.
“I happen to know for a fact that you like stories, so, if I tell you one, will you go back to
Claire?”
Claire's father had never told him a story before, so he nodded, his mouth agape.
“One day, a rich man was walking through town in another country. He passed many poor
people and beggars, all asking him for change. They all had different stories for wanting the
money. Despite that, he didn't give out a single penny. That night, he went to a restaurant, and
some of the poor people surrounded him when he came out. They were going to kill him and take
his cash,” Claire's father said.
“What did he do?”
“He didn't do anything. When the poor people ran at him, another man appeared. The
new man led the rich man away from the others and took him to a hiding spot where they
couldn’t find him.
When the small group finally dispersed, the rich man got a good look at his savior. It was
another beggar that he denied change to earlier in the day. He started to leave when the rich man
called out to him saying, 'where is your son?' He remembered the reason that this beggar had
asked for money was for medicine to take care of his son. The man simply uttered, 'Home.”
“Did the rich man help him?”
“The rich man paid a doctor to come and take care of the boy. Then, he bought the father
a meal at the restaurant. For saving him, the rich man promised the father that he would provide
a home and food for the father and his son if they would work for him. The father agreed, and
they came to live with the rich man and worked for him. After that, both families were happy.”
“What happened to the father and son?”
“They're still working to this very day,” Claire's father said.
“Where?”
“You'll figure it out when you're older. Now, I've told you a story, so it's your turn to keep
up your end of the deal.”
“Yes sir,” Barry said.
He got up and ran back outside. He'd only been inside for about ten minutes.
Claire was still outside. She hadn't completely stopped crying; she was still whimpering.
Walking up to her, Barry gave her a hug and said, “I'm sorry, Claire.”
She stopped crying.
“Are you ready to keep playing?”
“Yes,” Barry said.
He sat down in the same chair, and Claire proceeded to pour fake tea into the cups around
the table. Barry didn't realize it until Claire “filled up” the tea cup of the stuffed animal next to
him, but he looked to his left and saw the elephant.
He smiled and said nothing, but simply moved her hand a little to the right so the fake tea
was directly over the elephant's cup.
“Are you awake, Barry?”
Barry came back to his senses.
Claire smiled, not knowing what he was thinking. She hoped he was thinking of her and
trying his best not to show it. Claire loved toying with him. Not heavily, just a little flirting here
and there, sometimes so subtle, she doubt he noticed. She knew it made him uncomfortable, but
on some level she always sort of hoped he would cross the line with her, too.
Claire had to admit, he kept his feelings in check very well. He’d had years of practice.
Still, there were some days where she just wanted him to cross the line, brush her bangs out of
her eyes and then kiss her slowly. She didn’t think he ever would, but she would keep pushing
that boundary, always hoping that one day, he’d just get over himself and do it.
“Sorry, just thinking about something,” he said.
He took her hand, and they went outside. Barry opened the passenger door for her, and
she sat down inside.
He then went around to the driver's side.
Claire's father used to have a limo, but when Barry got his license and started driving her
around, she complained the limo isolated her too much. So, her father bought her a red
convertible. Claire always did have a slight flair for fun things in life. It was in her name, but
Barry was the driver.
The car came to life as Barry turned the key. As they pulled out of the gated driveway and
got on the road, Claire's long dirty blond hair started to blow in the wind. She didn't like to put
her hair up, so she left it down most of the time.
After about ten minutes of driving, they arrived at her lawyer's office downtown. His
name was Spencer Gibbings. He'd been Claire's family attorney for a long time.
The health of Claire’s father took a hit because he loved to smoke. He hated what he
called the “cheap stuff.” He would never smoke cigarettes, but he loved other forms of tobacco.
He smoked a hookah, cigars, and he even smoked a pipe occasionally. He never showed
any signs that it was really damaging his body. He didn't have coughing fits or anything, but one
day he went in for a normal check up, and the results showed he actually had cancer.
The doctors gave him three months with chemotherapy or a month without it. He chose
not to take the treatment and spent every day that month doing something with Claire. He took
Claire all over the country on vacation. She refused to go without Barry though, so, Barry got to
tag along.
Barry's father had already died, and it only made sense to take him.
Toward the last days of his life, Claire’s father got tired easily, so Barry spent more time
looking after Claire.
They were flying back home on the family jet when Claire's father collapsed and died on
the spot. They were in the air, and it all happened so suddenly that nothing could be done about it.
Claire didn't talk for at least a couple weeks after that. Eventually, when she realized that she still
had Barry, and always would, she began to come out of her shell.
Barry got out first and went around to get Claire out of the car. He took her hand, and the
two walked into the office.
The receptionist looked up from her computer screen and smiled when she saw the two of
them. She walked over and gave Claire a hug.
She was a short plump woman with curly graying hair.
“Hey Sarah,” Claire said.
“I'd forgotten that today was the day. Has it really been five years?”
“It has. Daddy left specific instructions to wait for five years after his death before his
will was read. I'm not sure why,” Claire said.
“There's no telling with your father. He always was such a spontaneous person. I'm sure
he had a good reason though,” Sarah said.
She looked over at Barry and gave him a hug too.
“You've gotten even taller, Barry. When are you going to stop growing?”
“I have no clue. Maybe if I get big enough, I can just carry Claire around,” Barry said,
laughing.
Claire jabbed him in the ribs lightly.
“I'll go get Spencer,” Sarah said. She walked into his office. A few seconds later, she
came out and motioned that both of them could go in.
Barry could feel Claire's grip on his hand getting tighter.
“Hey, you okay?”
“I'm fine,” she said, softly.
Barry definitely felt a change in her demeanor as they approached the office. She was
even shaking a little. He wanted so badly to just. . . scoop her into his arms and remind her that it
would be okay. That, however, would be crossing the line, and it was something he would not do.
She took a deep breath and then actually walked ahead of Barry into the office. He
followed behind, surprised at her sudden determination.
Spencer shook Barry's hand and kissed Claire's.
The guy was always a class act. He wore a nice suit, and he was tall, muscular, and his
age showed through his salt and pepper hair.
“You look lovely,” Spencer said.
“Thanks Spencer. . . you been busy today?”
“No, you're my only appointment. Out of respect for you and your family, you're the only
ones I'm meeting with,” Spencer said.
“I see. Did daddy ever tell you why he wanted me to wait five years before reading his
last will and testament?”
Spencer shifted in his chair and slid the manila envelope onto the table.
“I honestly don't know, Claire. I suppose when he knew he was going to pass on, he
wanted you to be a big enough girl to handle whatever he was leaving you,” Spencer said.
“Well, I think I'm ready to handle whatever is in that envelope,” Claire said.
“I'll excuse myself then,” Barry said, as he got up to leave.
Claire's hand caught his arm.
“You will stay right here next to me, as you always have,” Claire said.
Barry didn't say anything for a few seconds. She wasn't looking him directly in the eyes,
not that he expected her to.
“This is your father's will. I have no place listening to it. Whatever is in there is for you
and Mr. Spencer to deal with,” Barry said.
“You will read it to me,” Claire said.
“Spencer is more than capable,” Barry said.
“He won't so much as open the envelope. This is our families' business, Barry. Please take
the envelope, open it, and read the will to me. I'm sorry, Spencer, but I want Barry's eyes to be
the first to see it,” Claire said.
“But I-” he stopped mid sentence when Claire finally did make eye contact with him. She
didn't do it very often, but he knew that when she did, he'd just lost whatever argument they were
having.
The stunning green orbs that were her eyes looked faded, and he knew that she couldn't
see him, but that didn't change anything.
“As you wish,” Barry said.
“Spencer?”
“Well Claire, I hope you find a token of your father's love in there,” Spencer said,
handing the folded to Barry.
Barry's hands started to sweat as he held the envelope. He felt like he was holding
something that weighed several thousand pounds when he knew that this thing could easily blow
away in the wind.
It was sealed with some kind of wax, so Barry pulled out his small pocket knife. He used
it to gently undo the wax seal. Then, he opened the envelope.
There was only one sheet of paper inside, which wasn't what Barry was expecting. He
looked at the paper. It appeared blank at first until he did a closer examination.
Little dots. . . several of them covered the paper in some kind of pattern.

TO BE CONTINUED...TOMORROW.