The Suitcase of Innocence

Gravel crunched under the tires of the two-door hatchback, clouds of grey-white dust following them. Susan rode in Mrs. Leche’s car. Her 7th-grade choir teacher had found her sitting outside the school, waiting on her mother, and offered her a ride home.

Mrs. Leche glanced at her odometer. ”You said 2.1 miles, so we should be coming up on your place before too long.”

Susan pointed at the road ahead. ”Yes, ma’am. First house after the bend.”

Mrs. Leche rounded the curve and quickly slowed the car. Something was wrong. Three police cruisers, each with flashing lights but no sirens, were parked on the property. Two were down the side of the driveway, but the third — a K9 unit — was parked in the backyard, blocking the rear exit to the house. An unmarked white cargo van sat in the middle of the drive. Its rear door was open, and the moving ramp extended from the truck bed to the ground.

”This is your house? Right?” asked Mrs. Leche.

”Yes, ma’am.”

”Okay, then.” said Mrs. Leche, exhaling loudly. She pulled in carefully, parked behind the truck, and killed the engine. Turning to Susan, she gently patted her hand and looked her in the eyes. ”Oh, sweetie. I don’t know what’s going on here. But we’ll figure it out, okay?”

Susan nodded, unable to speak. Her eyes were wide and unblinking.

”Okay. I want you to stay here. I’m going to find someone to talk to.” Mrs. Leche spoke slowly, her eyes intently assessing Susan’s for understanding.

Susan swallowed, the action causing pain to tear down the back of her paper-dry throat. ” Yes, ma’am.” she managed.

The car shook as her teacher got out and closed its door. Gravel dust rushed in and hung suspended in the air. The particles traveled up her nose, lining her nostrils with the smell of dirt and causing her to cough and sputter. Now Susan’s throat was even scratchier than before.

Mrs. Leche approached a pair of officers standing on the front porch. They spoke to her for a moment, then all stared Susan’s way. The screen door slammed open, and the group scattered. Already broken, the door hung precariously but survived the blow. A young deputy stepped backward through the threshold, his arms supporting a television. The other end was carried by a short, pudgy officer with sweat dripping from his brow. They carried the TV into the back of the truck, and, for the first time, Susan turned her attention to the truck’s contents. There were open boxes of electronics, the cables sticking out to give away the contents. But it wasn’t until she noticed her bike strapped against the aluminum wall that she realized everything in there belonged to her family!

Are these men robbing her house? If so, why do they look like police? Is Mrs. Leche in danger? And her mom! What about her mom?! Susan searched in earnest but wasn’t able to spot her mother.

Susan’s hand moved towards the handle and her fingers slowly wrapped around it, but she stopped just before committing to the pull. She’d been told to stay there, and if those aren’t cops, she needs to play it dumb ... and stupid. Sitting back, she studied the truck’s contents from inside the car and caught sight of small details she’d missed at first glance — like the pink sleeve of her Korean silk jacket draped over a tub. It had her name embroidered on the back. Why would someone want to take that? Do they have a daughter named Susan? And what about that stereo? That’s hers too!

The car door opened, causing her to jump. Mrs. Leche climbed in and closed the door. She turned Susan’s way. ”Okay, sweetie. I spoke to the officers and got some information.” She gulped, grabbed Susan’s hand, and started rubbing the top.

Her teacher’s reluctance to tell Susan the problem was making the panic rise up her throat. Something was going on here. Something bad. ”Just spit it out!” Susan said. Her hand flew and covered her mouth. ”Please, ma’am.” she added quickly.

Mrs. Leche nodded. ”Your parents have been arrested for theft. The police have a warrant to search your property and confiscate anything they think is stolen.”

”Like my jacket? And my bike?” ”Huh?”

Susan nodded towards the truck parked in front of them.

Mrs. Leche turned to see. ”Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.” she said, pulling Susan in for a hug.

”What about Jake?” Susan asked.

”Who?”

”My little brother, Jake. He’s ten, ma’am.”

”Was your mom supposed to pick him up, too?”

”No, ma’am. He rides the bus.”

”Okay, I’ll ask about Jake.”

”What about my bed? Will they take that away, ma’am?”

”Um ... probably not.”

”But where will I sleep if they do take it?”

Mrs. Leche brushed Susan’s hair out of her face and stared into her eyes. ”You can’t stay here, sweetie. Someone’s coming to pick you up.”

”But I don’t know nobody, ma’am.”

”They’ve called for a social worker. It’s a person whose job is to ensure you’re safe and taken care of.”

Safe? Where can she be safe, if not here, in her home? ”Where will I go, ma’am?”

”I don’t know, sweetie. But they do. It’s what they’re there for.”

”When’ll they be here?”

”I’m not sure. But if I find out, I promise I’ll update you, okay?”

Susan nodded, then stared down at the floorboard. Everything was happening too fast. There wasn’t enough time to think and process all these things.

”The officers say I can stay with you until the social worker arrives.”

Susan caught Mrs. Leche’s caring gaze. The statement sparked the first flutter of pleasantness she’d felt since arriving — now she won’t be left to swim her way out of a sea of strangers.

”Now, sweetie, we’re going to need to get a few things.” ”What things, ma’am?”

”Clothes, shoes. That kind of stuff. Enough for a few days.” Susan raised her eyebrows. ”Um ... okay.”

”I’ll help you.”

”Yeah, thanks ... ma’am.”

Susan exited the car but found her feet frozen, refusing to go towards the house.

Everything seemed unfamiliar. Wrong. Her things aren’t in there. Her mom and brother aren’t in there. A bunch of strangers are in there, and they’re taking all her things out with them!

She wanted somewhere to run and hide, but there was no cover save for a few lone trees and an old two-story barn where her cat Maisy had once given birth. It was too far out in the open for her to reach without getting caught.

”Susan, you okay, sweetie?” Mrs. Leche came back her way. ”Stupid me! Of course you’re not. Poor thing.” she said, squeezing Susan into a hug. Mrs. Leche grasped hold of Susan’s hand. ”Come on, let’s go.” she said with a slight tug.

Her feet found purchase on the ground, and she moved forward, forced to face the fact that the life she was facing was reality. But why doesn’t it feel like it? Why’s she so numb?

Squeezing her teacher’s hand for comfort, Susan climbed the concrete steps. The officers on the porch eyed her as she got closer, the one on the right flashing a smile her way and nodding. She tried forcing her head to answer back, but wasn’t sure if she got it to move. Her attention turned to inside the house. The scene looming past the doorway didn’t look like the home she knew.

There was a tug on her hand, and Susan looked down in confusion. Her feet had stopped moving of their own accord, once again frozen into place.

”You can do this, sweetie. I’m here with you, okay?” asked Mrs. Leche.

She stepped through the threshold and into a foreign world. Stuff was strewn everywhere, like a tornado had come through. Off to her right, the kitchen drawers had been emptied onto the counters and floors, and the cabinet and refrigerator doors were gaping open. The living room to her other side was torn apart. The cushions on the couch were split, the stuffing torn out. All the movies and video games were missing, not that it mattered — the DVD player and the game consoles were gone too! The TV’s absence was strikingly obvious, leaving a gaping white hole that highlighted the filthy, nicotine-stained walls surrounding it.

An older female officer approached and handed Mrs. Leche a brown suitcase. She turned to Susan. ”If I were you, I’d be terrified. But girlie, you don’t even seem scared! You’re very brave, young one.”

”Thank you, ma’am.” Susan answered, keeping the truth to herself — she’s not brave, only numb and confused.

”Carol — I’m sorry, Mrs. Leche — is going to help you pack this suitcase. Could you show her where your room is, please?” the kind officer asked.

Susan nodded and led her teacher through the narrow hallway, trying to step around all the messes. A lump rose to her throat as she approached the doorway of her room. The bed she’d left neatly made had been torn apart, and the seams of the mattress cut open. All the dresser drawers were pulled out, their contents dumped. The closet door had been removed from the hinges and cast aside, and what was left of her possessions were in disarray.

”Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.” Mrs. Leche squeezed Susan’s shoulder on her way to the bed. Using her arm to sweep away the clutter, she cleared a spot for the suitcase.

The soft-sided suitcase made of brown faux leather was worn and riddled with cracks. The inside was clean, but the plastic rim, which helped the bag hold its shape, was snapped on one side, and the mesh liner had a hole. By looks, the old suitcase should stink, but Susan was surprised at the lack of odor. At least her clothes won’t smell. She was always careful to wash them and put them away quickly — her way to minimize the odor of cigarettes that clung to everything like a bane.

None of that mattered now. All her neatly packed drawers and carefully laundered clothes had been dumped. Susan scanned the room, not knowing where to start. What does someone pack when their mom gets arrested? And did it matter? It’s not like she could find anything she needed. Her stuff was everywhere.

”Do you know how long I’ll be gone, ma’am? How much I need to pack?”

Mrs. Leche walked to Susan, brushed the hair out of her eyes, and spoke calmly but firmly. ”I don’t know if you’ll come back here, sweetie.”

The truth of the words rebounded in her heart, echoing despair throughout her body. Susan managed a nod and turned her head quickly before her teacher could see the tears welling in her eyes.

Mrs. Leche picked an empty drawer off the ground and put it back in the dresser, repeating her work until all six were put back. ”There! That’s a little better.” She said, dusting her hands together.

Susan’s tension relaxed slightly and her breathing eased. Now the piles were familiar, and she could spot some of her things amongst them.

”Okay, sweetie. You’ll need underwear and socks. I think they’re over there. Can you find a few pairs? Get enough for a week or so. I’d grab it for you, but I know I wouldn’t want someone picking my underwear out at 12 years old.”

”No, ma’am. I’ll get them. Thank you.” Susan gathered her favorite undies and all the socks she could find that didn’t have holes and put them in the suitcase.

”Great job, sweetie. Shirts next. Nothing fancy, just pick comfy ones you like to wear. And pack a sweatshirt if you have one.”

Susan found her pile of T-shirts. Digging through them, she fondly smiled at the puns adorning their fronts.

”What a lovely collection you have there. It must be hard to choose.”

”Yes, ma’am.” admitted Susan.

”Let’s make two piles. What’s your absolute favorite outta all those? The one you know you can’t leave?”

Susan held up a t-shirt depicting a blue-and-white pill relaxing in a hammock on the beach with an umbrella drink in hand. The logo read 'Take a Chill Pill.' Her name was airbrushed across the top. She’d gotten it on vacation when her family spent three glorious days at the beach. Two years later, the shirt still smelled of sunscreen and fond memories.

Mrs. Leche laughed. ”That’s cute! Okay, start a pile with that one. Now find one that you know you’re okay leaving behind, that won’t make you that sad.”

”I never cared too much for this one.” Susan said, showing a shirt with a bowl of colorful loop cereal. The box was behind the bowl, wearing a backward cap and headphones. The tagline read 'Cereal-ously cool.’

”That’s so stinking cute! But okay. Start another pile with that one.”

Spotting a clearing on the floor, Susan threw the shirt.

”Awesome! Now, pick up the next one and get it into one of those piles. Go with your gut.” encouraged Mrs. Leche.

The exercise proved easier than expected, and the only choice she regretted was throwing her 'Gnoming with My Homies’ shirt into the discard pile. She fished it out, putting the wagonful of cheerful garden gnomes with the rest of the keep pile.

Susan carefully picked out the rest of her clothing, and soon her suitcase was nearly full.

”Great job, sweetie! Is there anything else you’d like to grab? Maybe some jewelry?”

”Never really had any, ma’am. But if I did, I reckon it’d be in the back of that truck outside.”

”Good point.” Mrs. Leche bit her lip. ”How about anything small that’s special to you, like pictures or letters?”

”No, ma’am.” Susan’s piggy bank had been emptied, so she couldn’t pack money. She had enough clothing, as long as she didn’t have to dress fancy. And she couldn’t take her movies. She sorted through a pile of books, selecting three of her favorites. Spotting her journal in the corner, she retrieved it, relief shuddering through her as she added it to the suitcase. Imagine if it'd become 'evidence' in the back of that truck and someone read it?!

Susan’s heartbeat gradually returned to normal, and she examined the things she was leaving behind. The dance costume she loved so much, the one she proudly wore in last year’s recital, lay in a heap. Her various pairs of shoes were strewn about and abandoned, too bulky to pack. She might’ve taken some of her band posters if the cops hadn’t literally ripped them off the walls.

”Susan, sweetie?” Mrs. Leche spoke softly.

”Yes, ma’am?” asked Susan, turning towards her teacher.

”They’re here.”

”Who’s here?”

”The social worker.”

Susan’s heart plummeted to her gut. This was really happening. She has to leave. She was just starting to like it here. To be settled. What if this is the last time she sees this place? Numbly, she closed the suitcase and zipped it shut.

”I’ll get that for you, sweetie.” Mrs. Leche rushed over, took the suitcase by the handle, and put her other hand in Susan’s. ”Let’s go.”

A flash of white caught Susan’s attention as she stepped out the door. ”That’s Jake’s!” she cried, rushing back in to retrieve her brother’s plush stuffed puppy and hugging it close. ”He won’t sleep without this. Did someone help him pack a bag, too?”

The kind officer who’d spoken to her earlier stepped forward. ”Yes, my brave young one. So perhaps you 'aught take that with you. Keep it safe for him. Whatcha think?”

”Yes, ma’am. I will, thank you.” Susan nodded.

”You’re very welcome. Your social worker is outside, standing by her car. She’s a nice lady, I promise. You’ll be okay, brave one.”

”Thank you, ma’am.”

Susan and Mrs. Leche walked out to where a motherly-looking lady with long brown hair was standing next to a black four-door sedan. ”Hi. You must be Susan. It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Marie. Marie Porter. I see you’re already packed and ready to go. Do you have any questions for me before we leave?”

”Where will you take me?” Susan asked.

”To a nice family — the Jenkins. They’ve agreed to care after you for a few days while we get this all settled. Sound good?”

Susan nodded.

”Great! Go ahead and get in the car, and we’ll leave when you’re ready. Here, I’ll take this.” said Marie, grabbing the suitcase from Mrs. Leche’s hands and putting it into the trunk. She climbed in and started the engine.

Susan turned and found her teacher’s caring brown eyes. ”Thank you for staying with me. I’m not sure what I would have packed without your help, ma’am.”

Mrs. Leche pulled Susan into a hug and squeezed tightly. ”It was my pleasure. You take care of yourself, sweetie.”

Susan climbed into the passenger’s seat and closed the door. Numbness set into her bones, and she sat back with a sigh.

”You ready?” Marie asked.

”Do I have a choice?” asked Susan.

”Not really, sorry.”

"Then yes." Susan squeezed Jake’s stuffed puppy and turned her face away from the place that no longer felt like home. The road ahead of her was uncertain but unavoidable. ”I’ll have to be.”