Zero
“You wagered your own child as a gambling stake?” the doctor asked. He was young. I noticed he didn’t look particularly happy to be working at Toponica Mental Hospital.
“Now, look, Doc, it’s not exactly like that.”
“That’s what the report says.”
“I had to say that just so you’d see me ahead of the line.”
“So, what did you do?”
“Look, I always play red and black. I don’t complicate things with numbers. That night… my luck was just out. I was tracking the drops, but it was no use, I couldn’t catch any logic to it.”
“Logic?”
“Yeah, Doc. You track what fell in the previous rounds. If the ball lands on red several times in a row, logic says there’s a higher probability it’ll hit black next time.”
“I don’t think there’s any logic there. Roulette is a game of chance.”
“Well, that’s your problem, Doc.”
Gavrilo. Where is he now? We used to hang out ten years ago, before he bolted to his folks in Aleksinac. Maybe he can jump in with some cash. I know his parents have money.
“And zero?” the doctor asked.
“Zero, Doc, is a tricky player.”
“When zero hits, you lose, no matter how you spin it, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
“When zero hits, the casino always wins?”
“That’s right, the house sweeps it.”
“The house?”
“That’s what we call the betting shop. Surely you’ve heard the term.”
“And you’re fine knowing there’s an option where, instead of a fifty-fifty chance, there’s a third option that changes the odds?”
“That’s zero, Doc. Zero is the turning point.”
“Turning point?”
“Exactly. After a zero, I always start winning. It’s my lucky number. I might lose when zero hits, but after that, I’m always in the black.”
“That night, zero didn’t hit, I assume?”
“It didn’t, damn its soul. Not on the roulette wheel.”
“And your wife?”
“My wife… She was at home with my brother-in-law, Joca.”
“And?”
“Nothing, she was nine months along, and I knew she was due soon, I just didn’t expect it to happen that night.”
The doctor didn’t answer. He just looked at me. He was analyzing me with those doctorly eyes of his.
“I didn’t even plan on staying, I swear. I just stopped by for a bit, to see what that new shop in Little Vegas was like.”
“Little Vegas?”
“Yeah, Doc, it starts from Crveni Pevac and ends at the hospital. There are all sorts of betting shops there. And they all shimmer like I’d walked into Sin City.”
“Oh, really? And then what happened?”
The doctor definitely didn’t share my enthusiasm for Little Vegas.
“And then, my dear Doc, I realized I was broke. Completely. That I’d blown my whole paycheck on red.”
While I was talking, I pulled out my phone, found Gavra’s number, and typed: “How’s it going, Gavra? Can you lend me ten k? Mother’s sick. Need it for meds. I’ll pay you back in a week, as soon as I get paid.” I sent him my account number too.
If it works, it works.
“Ahem.”
“Sorry, Doc. Where was I?”
“You blew the money?”
“Oh, right. And then my brother-in-law called. He told me Mica was in labor and that I should get to the clinic immediately.”
“You, of course, left that very instant?”
“If only it were that easy, Doc. My brother-in-law said they went to a private clinic and told me to bring a thousand euros however I could to pay for the delivery, or he would—to quote him—’nullify’ me. He’s an intellectual, you know.”
“And?” The Doc was getting into it now.
“And what? Where was I going to find a thousand euros? I didn’t even have enough for a beer. But… then luck looked my way. A guy playing roulette next to me asked about the baby’s gender, and I told him I didn’t know. Now, you see, Doc, I noticed he and I were on the same wavelength. I felt I could profit.”
“You bet on the gender of the child?”
“Bingo! He claimed the baby was a boy and that he had an ‘infallible feeling’ and a ‘hundred percent track record’ when it came to guessing the gender. He even gave me fifty euros as a stake.”
“A stake?”
“Yeah, if he was right, I’d pay him back double. A hundred.”
“And?”
“A few other guys heard the first one and his hundred percent track record, so they decided to invest too. You should have seen them flocking in; in ten minutes, I’d raised the money for the delivery.”
“Just like that?”
“We gamblers are a strange breed, Doc.”
“But that means you’d have to pay back two thousand euros if it were a boy?”
“I’m not stupid, Doctor. Of course I knew the gender.”
“Then how did you manage to lose the bet?”
“Zero.”
“Zero?”
“Yes, zero. The house takes it all.”
“How is that possible?”
“Well, it’s possible when the thing you don’t expect happens.”
“Wait, the child was… stillborn? You had a miscarriage?”
“Man, you’re dark. Of course not! Even if it were stillborn, we could still know the gender.”
“So, it was a girl? You got the money? I don’t understand.”
“Something like that.”
“Something like that?”
“A girl was born. And then a boy was born.”
“Twins?” The doctor smiled.
“Twins,” I confirmed.
“And? What then?”
“You tell me, Doc? I say: I won because the girl was born first. They want their money back. Turns out some of them are dangerous people who don’t like being owed. That’s why I came here, so you could stash me away for a while.”
A message arrived from the bank. Gavrilo had paid. I can’t believe it actually worked.
“For how long?” the doctor sighed.
“We’ll figure that out later.”
“Later?”
“Yeah, I’ll be back in a few hours. I’m going now.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Home? To Niš? Why?”
“You’re naive, Doc. I’m heading to the betting shop, just around the corner.”
“Why, for God’s sake?”
I paused at the office door and smiled at the doctor.
“Doc, after a zero, I always start winning.”
“Zero” is a short story I wrote for a literary competition. The story explores the issue of gambling addiction in Serbia.