A Bet and a Debt 

W

e were in a new Mercedes taxi. Great AC, smooth suspension, and it even smelled nice. But none of that was important to me; I was too nervous. The meter, usually the subject of extravagant attention, ticked away unnoticed.

We were on the way to Shaare Zedek. My wife was in labor, and nothing else mattered.

The nahag, of course, was completely unimpressed.

“Do you know what you’re having?” he asked me, in Hebrew.

“A baby,” I replied.

“B’emet?”

We shared a chuckle.

“But do you know if it’s a ben or bat?”