My full name is Jackson Dedalus Calvert. The Dedalus was entirely my mother’s idea—her concession after my father insisted on naming me after Stonewall. I’m 20 something (you’ll figure it out–old enough to know better in most cases). At five-eleven I’m my father’s height. I can’t count the number of times people have told me I look just like him. I’ve got the same mop of sandy hair he had when he was younger; the same thin lips and meager chin. I had memorized his appearance, since Johnson Calvert was infamous in my eyes (and irrelevant in others’).
My friends called me Jack or Calvert. My mother called me Jackson, or she did before moving to Stratford, England to fill a lifelong dream. ‘To live where Shakespeare wrote.’ My mother sold everything before she left on her dilettante escape. Everything but the red LeBaron convertible. She told me to take good care of her car. I was doing my best.
Rabble Rouser 