Me, Jones and The Journey Home

Prologue

My name is Jess Santini, and when I turned 28, my action figure came to life.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm crazy. You're thinking I belong in a nuthouse.

Well, think what you will.

I know what happened. I was there for all of it. I still don't believe it and guess what...I lived through it. That's why I wrote this. It's for my future generations to understand the story of their heritage.

I know. You're probably calling the Crisis Line, saying 'Hey, I picked up this book and this lady is insane. Can you please find her?'

I swear to you I'm not crazy. I'll admit to being a little sleep deprived but I ask you- what new mom isn't? That doesn't make me crazy.

My action figure actually came to life.

Jones lived and died. You've probably seen the article at one time or another. I know I've seen it more than once. He was quite a celebrity in his time.

He wasn't as big a celebrity as your average Hollywood hunk. He didn't star in a hit movie. He didn't release a hit single. Yet, to those who knew and loved him, he was unforgettable and they miss him every day.

He even had a profound effect on my life.

I wish I could even begin to describe the effect Jones had on my life. He brought me to my husband. Without him, my precious babies wouldn't exist.

Maybe I should have reacted more the day my action figure spoke to me. I didn't though, and I'm better for it. Looking back, I'm glad I didn't react.

Ultimately, it was the best thing I could have done.

My life went another way, when I couldn't decide if I was coming or going. I shudder to think what my life might be if things had been different.

It's a world I'd rather not know.

My life is the way it is now because of a six inch plastic man.

Blame Jones.

I certainly do.

Chapter 1

It Begins

My mother always told me life has a way of working out. Considering what the last 3 months of my life had been, it’s fair to say I wasn’t sure I believed her.

I thought I had life figured out when I had the proverbial rug ripped from under me. I went from being the girl who knew what was going on to barely knowing which way was up.

“Too early,” I mumbled, groping blindly for my glasses. “Way too early.”

"Come on!" my father hissed, wandering into the room. "You have to submit your 10 resumes. " He tapped his glass-faced watch, reminding me I had things to do and more importantly, people to email.

"You're just lonely," I mumbled, tying my gray floral print kimono around my body. He scowled, apparently not liking my response. "I'm up. Coffee done?"

"Yeah, if Karen hasn't gotten to it." He shrugged as if to say *I have no control over my sister.' "I say again- if you'd been up the first time I tried to wake you, you'd have coffee. You're 27- when are you going to grow up?"

Why couldn't he just leave me to rot?

At the age of 26, I had everything going for me. I worked a job that exposed me to everything. I loved my city. I (for the most part) loved the people around me.

By 27, I was back home, living in their spare bedroom, wondering when life was going to throw me a bone.

You could count on a lot of things in life. Death. Taxes. A psychotic boss firing you for a lapse in his personal home insurance policy? Definitely not of one of those things.

Ray fired me on a Tuesday. While I'm almost certain he did it to teach me a lesson, I couldn't guarantee it. I moved back home on a Friday, stunning everyone who knew me.

Jess didn't do things like that.

No, Jess was loyal to a fault when it came to Ray Westcott. She took his shit, answering his calls at any time of the day or night. She never had a life, outside of her job. Jess was a pushover- superhero by day, anxious mess by night.

Not anymore.

"Jess, I left you a cup of coffee!" Karen, my dad's sister appeared in the doorway. "Come on. It's still hot."

Grumbling about the state of my life, I forced myself out of the twin sized bed and gestured for Karen to shut the door. I found the first semi-clean outfit I could and dressed, prepared to greet the day.

"The school's hiring for Janitorial." Karen thrust a chipped mug in my hand. I accepted the coffee, examining the mug. It advertised some church- another souvenir of Karen's countless attempts to find God.

“Um, thanks,” I said, adding cream and sugar to the mug. I take a long sip, doing my best not to wince. My dad and aunt are notorious for liking weak coffee-something that’s never thrilled me.

“Seriously. I have an in over there. He goes to my church.” Karen rested her hand on my forearm as she forced me to look into her eyes. “You’ll be fine, Jess.”

I wanted to believe her. Hell, I needed to believe her and yet... I couldn’t.

“I’m taking the laptop and going back to bed.” I grabbed a cookie off the counter, ignoring the offered apple.

With pillows supporting my back, I began to search the internet for any jobs that sounded interesting. I knew I actually had to like what I did.

Considering the ever-rising pressure my parents put on me, that felt like it was easier said than done.

"Gee, they need a make-up seller." I rolled my eyes, as I scanned the details of yet another multilevel marketing scheme. "Or a janitor. Can I just wake up from this nightmare?"