Chapter 4

That Sunday Meir went on one of the most exciting trips he had ever taken. He and Mr. Batur met on the corner as planned. Meir was glad he didn’t run into anyone he knew on his way.

Knowing that they’d be gone quite a while, Meir had secretly packed some sandwiches for lunch for both himself and the artist. The twosome climbed into Mr. Batur’s rented carriage and were on their way.

Soon the unlikely pair found themselves in a lovely area. They sat down beneath a large tree and began to paint the beautiful scene in front of them, a stream that ran along the edge of a quiet field. The weather was beautiful and the air smelled fresh and clean. Meir could hardly contain his joy.

The artist was deeply touched that Meir had brought along food for him, and they both enjoyed their picnic. Meir soon learned that painting outside was called “plein air painting,” from the French. These were the first French words Meir had ever learned, and he felt he was getting a real education.

There was more to life than the streets of New York, Meir knew, and he wanted to take full advantage of it. Not to say that he wasn’t grateful for his life, because he was. He appreciated his fine Jewish home and his community, his friends, his wonderful rebbe and his Talmud Torah. He also appreciated his Jewish heritage with a love so vast that he could not express it, but he wanted to go beyond it as well, into the wider world where there were so many wonders to be discovered.

The artist continued to be impressed at the level of Meir’s talent. He knew the boy could do incredible things with his painting. Meir, for his part, was having the best day of his life.

After packing up his supplies, the artist said to Meir, “This week I’ll be going out of a town for a show, so I don’t think I’ll be seeing you. Would you like to meet again next Sunday?”

Meir didn’t even hesitate. “Sure!”

“Same place, same time?”

“Okay!”

When he arrived home that evening, his mother, who assumed he’d been spending the day at Chesky’s, was delighted to see him. “How was your day?” she asked.

“Fine, thank you.”

“You had a good time?”

“Yes, great.” Meir could not prevent the huge smile from spreading across his face.

His mother was a little surprised, but she had no reason to suspect that anything out of the ordinary had taken place.

Meir tried to buckle down and study that week at school. Since he wasn’t seeing Mr. Batur every afternoon, it was a little easier to concentrate on his lessons. In the little spare time that he had, he tried to practice the techniques Mr. Batur had taught him, but it wasn’t easy because he didn’t own any paint or canvas. He could hardly wait for Sunday to come again.

Of course, missing Talmud Torah for two Sundays in a row would be tricky. Meir knew that his rebbe, Reb Yudel, might ask Meir’s father where Meir was if he didn’t show up again. But how could he pass up the chance to learn more about the wonderful art of painting?

Once again, Meir turned to his good friend Chesky. He waited until Friday came around again and then, on the way to school, he began to explain his plans.

Chesky groaned. “Wasn’t once enough? Meir, if only there was some way I could talk you out of this dangerous plan!”

“Believe me, Chesky, nothing’s going to happen to me! I’ll be home by five o’clock at the latest. You won’t need to do anything; just pretend I’m at your house if anyone asks.

And maybe…if you could…tell Reb Yudel that I’m not feeling well. That way I won’t get in trouble for skipping Talmud Torah.”

“Meir…” Chesky took a deep breath. “What you’re proposing is to lie to your parents and to Reb Yudel. I can’t do that! I’ve never lied before and I don’t want to do it now. I think you’re making a big mistake in going out with this artist again.”

“Chesky, please, just this once! I promise I won’t ask you again after this! You’re my best friend. Who else do I have to turn to?”

Chesky didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to ruin his friendship with Meir; they spent so much time together. At last, he allowed himself to be swayed by Meir’s pleas. “All right, Meir,” Chesky said, “but just this once. This is the last time I’m going to lie for you. The next time you ask me to do something like this, I’m going straight to your parents to tell them what you’ve been up to.”

Meir gave Chesky a big hug and said, “I knew I could count on you, Chesky. You’re a great friend.”

After Shabbos, Meir said to his mother, “Mama, can I spend the day at Chesky’s house tomorrow?”

“Again?” asked his mother, surprised.

“Yes, I have a few tests I need to study for and Chesky promised that he’d help me. Is that okay with you?”

“Well, all right, but please make sure to go to Talmud Torah in the morning.”

“Okay, Mama,” Meir said. He felt bad about lying to his mother, but he quickly rationalized it by telling himself it was only a “small” lie.

Meir had a lot of tests coming up, but he didn’t study for any of them. His rebbe in Talmud Torah had noticed that he wasn’t paying so much attention either, but he assumed that it was just a stage and that it would soon pass. Meir’s secret activities were hidden from everyone.

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