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Nathan hadn't wanted to be confirmed. It was a statement of belief, a charge to join the community, and a marker setting him apart from all the WASPs at his school. He wanted to fit in, didn't feel a part of the Catholic community, and, the more he learned about the world, the less faith he had in an omnipotent power.
It wasn't difficult to avoid when he was twelve. His parents had other worries. An infant in the house took the focus from a child away at school. Thirteen passed, and Nathan took glee club just to ensure he missed confirmation preparation at the parish near his school.
At fourteen the jig was up. His parents arranged for private instruction that fit his schedule. The ceremony would take place at Saint Patrick's Cathedral on the first Sunday after school let out.
He chose the name Beckett for his confirmation name. His father had wanted him to choose St. Thomas More, patron of lawyers; his mother had hoped for St. Alexander Sauli, patron of Corsica. Instead he'd selected a lover of women, a politician who opposed a king; Nathan thought him appropriate as a patron for his ambitions. Of course, Thomas a Beckett was also a martyr, but Nathan didn't worry about needing to make that type of sacrifice.
The day came. He made his confession -- and honestly what teenager didn't have a few sins of the flesh, the penance was unreasonable -- and sat with all the others participating. It was going to be a long service.
They were called in alphabetical order. Some the bishop asked a catechism question, but for the most part, everything went quickly.
It was Nathan's turn. He found out later that his parents had disagreed publicly with the bishop, and his father's firm did not handle church affairs pro bono. The bishop chose him for the ritual slap. It wasn't gentle, and the episcopal ring was heavy.
Nathan winced, but made no sound. The slap itself had been loud enough to carry.
There was an unholy scream, and a small ball of fury ran past him. Peter pounded and screamed at the bishop's leg, "You hit my brother!"
Nathan knelt down and pulled at Peter's hand. Peter's indignant face nearly made Nathan laugh, but he just whispered, "It's all right, Peter. That was supposed to happen."
Peter narrowed his eyes, then pointed up at the bishop. "He's mean." The look on the bishop’s face was priceless.
"Shhh. Stand here and protect me, okay?"
"Okay."
The bishop finished Nathan's consecration and waved a small blessing over Peter standing beside him.
Nathan took Peter's hand, and they walked proudly together down the main aisle: Nathan, newly adult in the eyes of the church, and his two year old defender.