Being a Barrow - A Sequel to Barrow's Boy

Omnia Enim Nihil

     Despite the pain that flashed through his chest at every mention or memory of her, something about being home allowed Theodore to finally ease his shoulders. He could escape the constant fear of his mortality, avoid the chance of an inevitability coming prematurely, and find warmth in the mutual care that radiated through his home. For, at the end of the day and after everything, it was his home. London, though enjoyable at times, did not compare. For in London, at St. Raphael's especially, he was rarely Teddy. And what a relief it was to finally be Teddy again.

     It grew tiring to be endlessly trying to be something that he evidently was not and likely would never be. Perhaps she had been right about one thing; he was not bourgeois. Despite his inheritance and the struggle in which he had earned it, Theodore had grown to learn and maintain the values of a working-class man. He knew the ache of work and the stress of adequate completion, the ambition of survival and the desperation for something more that he could only hope to achieve. He felt it all in the mundane tasks of polishing a piece of silver and the extensive labour of his studies. More than that, he knew the pressure, and he knew the fear. The need to keep working, to prove yourself, knowing that your failure to do so could cause you to lose everything. It had almost happened to the Barrows multiple times, and though Theodore had been young, he could not forget that. It was growing more and more clear to him that no matter how hard he tried at school to fit in, to be a posh boy with some inkling of interest in medicine, Theodore would always be one step behind. He could not be like them. Not when he instead yearned so much for his medical education that it gnawed at his very core. Not when he had done every little thing he possibly could just to get to where he was. 

     Not when he was Pauperis. 

    Where his friends had tranquillity and ease in knowing that their efforts would be enough no matter the outcome, Theodore was constantly under his own scrutiny. His need to do better; better than everyone else, and better than himself. He was not exactly proud of it, but it got him to success. And it was ever more beneficial when he was under the scrutiny of others as well. Expectation, after all, felt like scrutiny when it was enforced hard enough. All it could take was one conversation over the servants' tea to remind Theodore of that.

     He'd gotten his final exam marks from school that morning in the mail, and Molesley, visiting them under the guise of wanting to see how everyone was doing, but what the Barrows would later agree was simply Phyllis Baxter, began the conversation.

      "I knew it for a long time, you know," he said, causing everyone to look over at him.

     "Knew what?" Teddy hesitantly asked, well aware of how Molesley's eyes were trained on him. He feared what the answer was nearly as much as he wanted to know it.

      "That you would be the one to make it." Oh. "When you said you wanted to go to medical school, I knew that you would get there."

      "That's very kind of you, Mr. Molesley," Theodore replied. In unison, he and Thomas lifted their teacups to their lips.

      "The one who made it out of here," Daisy commented while standing in the kitchen doorway. Though she said it without malice, Theodore was brought back to his envious days of watching her be privately tutored in a variety of subjects. How ridiculous his youthful jealousy seemed now. 

     "Yes, yes," Mrs. Patmore said, shooing Daisy back into the kitchen, "he's done very well for himself. We all know it."

      "We're all very proud of you, Theodore," Anna added, smiling at him. Shocking Teddy, even Bates gave a nod of agreement. "I hope you know that."

     "I mean-" Teddy began but was cut off.

      "You should hear your father brag about you." Andy motioned at Thomas.