So began the next phase of what Yossi called, “Yiddishe Tristan meets Chinese Isolde.” We only had two more lab sessions, which we took pains to keep on the highest level of correctness. Other times we talked and texted and emailed away at all hours. It’s not like we were having phone sex, just what the diplomats call an open and frank exchange of views. For a time we tried to concentrate on the Bible, the Hebrew part of it. Yossi’s knowledge of the New Testament came exclusively from Milton, Dante and the St. Matthew Passion, and he planned to keep it that way. I noticed he hesitated before quoting each verse as he translated it into English. We finally had to admit holy subject matter wasn’t going to keep our thoughts pure. He knew a couple of guys who were walking Concordances to all the dirty parts in the Talmud.
Once we had tested the limits of sexual candor, our conversations took a wide turn. We started sending each other drafts of term papers. His visual sense was pretty poor, but he was able to tighten up the arguments of my art history papers and suggest better phrasing. Neither of us was about to start dating. We both had friends and family who were so occupied and we made ourselves busy deciding what was best for them. My sister’s affair with her fellow resident was of particular interest. He was puzzled as to why a non-religious Jewish family would object to a Chinese doctor as a daughter-in-law. I told him my father had a talk with the boy’s father. Not only did he come across as a devout Christian, but he managed to slip in some ambiguous comment about circumcision, which drove the boy’s family into a frenzy. I made a note not to mention any young man to my parents until we’ve signed a contract with the caterer.
Yossi kept pestering me about matters Chinese. Just to make him happy I took a course in Chinese history and civilization my second semester. My parents were of course delighted by my new interest, and I was almost tempted to tell them it was inspired by my Jewish boyfriend. That’s what we called each other, boyfriend and girlfriend, first as a joke and then as a matter of fact. We didn’t try to hide our deep mutual affection. Two lines were never crossed: the word “love” and any explicit mention of us having sex.
Our secret friendship made each of us more self-confident, to the point where late in the spring I agreed to go out on a date. He was a second-year engineering student named Chaucer Chang, known to rest of the world as Chuck. His family was from Hong Kong and even after the Communist takeover kept up their reverence for everything English. He sat next to me in the Chinese history class. I noticed his attempts at engaging me in conversation, and for the first time in my life tried to flirt and set the hook. He was only an inch shorter than me and not at all bad-looking. Yossi was thrilled at this development and tried to give me the viewpoint of a guy just as clueless as he. My parents were of course even more thrilled, and vied with Yossi as to who could take up more of my time on the phone.