The Game by Vi Keeland by Vi Keeland

I carried the book over to the bathroom door and knocked.

“Come in!”

I opened the door. “Hey. I found a book I’m interested in after all. You mind if I look through it?”

She spoke to my reflection in the mirror. “Of course not. Go ahead.” But my smirk must’ve tipped her off because then Bella turned around. “Hang on a second. What book is it?”

“Don’t know. Doesn’t have a title.”

She cocked her head. “What book doesn’t have a title?”

I grinned. “The kind that has a cute little girl with pigtails on the cover.”

“Oh gosh.” She chuckled. “I forgot that album was on the shelf.”

“Is it alright if I look?”

“Sure. But we won’t discuss any photos from the age of ten to twelve. I went through a Hypatia phase.”

“A what?”

“Hypatia. She was an astronomer and mathematician. I did a book report on her in fourth grade and made my mom style my hair like hers for a while.”

“What was her hair styled like?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

I planted myself on the couch again. The first two pages of the album had baby pictures of Bella. She was a tiny little thing with big, green, alert eyes and a smile that seemed perpetually on her face. When I turned the next page, I was momentarily confused. It looked like a recent picture of Bella, but her hair was darker and something about her seemed different. Then I realized Bella was the baby and the woman holding her must’ve been her mother. Damn, she really looks like her mom.

I watched Bella grow up as I flipped the pages. When I got to about age ten, there was a photo of her standing in front of a classroom, holding up a picture of a woman with an old-fashioned hairdo that was back in style with the bohemian crowd today. Her own hair was piled on top of her head in a loose bun, with a gold band placed near the front, sort of like a Greek goddess might wear. The quality of the photo wasn’t great, but Bella had the same retro hairdo for the next few pages, so I figured the woman in the picture she’d held was the mathematician she did her book report on. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I went through the next two years.

I was having fun until the photos abruptly stopped only halfway through the album. A hollow ache formed in my chest as I realized why. There was no one to take the pictures anymore. No one to pay for them to be printed. No one to care if Bella even came home at night. I turned back to look at the last picture of a young teenage girl. Bella was probably in early high school. Just like most of the other pictures, she wore a bright smile to match her bright eyes. It made me feel a little sick to think she’d had no idea what was coming.

Since the photos had left me feeling uneasy, I thought seeing pictures of her and her mother might bring Bella down, too. So I got up to put the album back on the shelf before she finished in the bathroom. As I did, a newspaper clipping slipped out. It must’ve been tucked in the back or folded into one of the blank pages somewhere. I picked it up and read the headline.



Woman, 34, killed by hit-and-run driver outside Bruins Stadium.



And I thought I’d felt like shit because the pictures stopped…

The blow dryer was still running, so I let curiosity get the best of me.



Police in East Rutherford, New Jersey, are looking for a hit-and-run driver who fatally injured a thirty-four-year-old woman. According to Bergen County police, the woman was an employee of the New York Bruins and had been walking east on Tremont Avenue, approximately fifty yards from the west entrance to Bruins Stadium. She was struck by a westbound vehicle and pronounced dead at the scene. The accident occurred at approximately one o’clock in the morning, after the employee had completed her shift following the Bruins’ evening game. According to one witness, the car, which was described as a red, antique, collectible-type vehicle, possibly from the fifties, sped off and got away. Anyone with information is asked to contact the Bergen County Police Department at 201-557-9999.



Wow. Bella had said her mother died, but I hadn’t realized it was a hit and run. I’d still been living in Indiana, finishing my senior year at Notre Dame at that time. Guess it hadn’t made national news, or I was too wrapped up in myself to pay attention. But damn… Bella didn’t even have a face to hold accountable for her loss. That had to make it worse. The sound of the blow dryer stopped, so I tucked the newspaper article back into the album and returned it to the shelf before going back to the couch.

Bella came out wrapped in a towel a few minutes later. She looked around. “I thought you were going to look at my old photo album?”

“Started playing a game on my phone and got sucked in,” I lied.

“Well, that saves me some embarrassment.” She picked up a jar of moisturizer on her nightstand and headed back to the bathroom. “I need about fifteen minutes to do my makeup and get dressed.”

“Sounds good.”

Twenty minutes later, Bella emerged in an emerald green slip-type dress that draped a bit at her cleavage and a pair of silver strappy sandals. It was simple, but damn, she looked phenomenal.

“What type of a place is the party at?” She looked down at her outfit. “I’m not sure what to wear. Am I overdressed?”

“You look gorgeous.” I stood. “But does that wrinkle easily?”