Dupree's Rebirth

by Micheal Maxwell

  “How about me what?”

  “Where are you heading to?”

  “If you must know, Portland for work, Scorpio, Republican, O Positive, and not interested.”

  “In what?” Dupree asked.

  “In continuing this pointless conversation.”

  Dupree studied the woman for a long moment. He took in her Versace, single men find you unapproachable or so you claim, though you would kill for a boyfriend, demeanor.

  “Top of your class in law school, Magna cum laude at some state college somewhere, thus the need to overachieve to compensate. The thing I don’t quite get is why you’re on this train. Afraid of flying, lost your license due to a third DUI? No, you’d have been fired. I got it, inner ear problems from eating too many aspirins for headaches putting in the hours you think will make you partner.” Dupree smiled at the woman. “How’d I do?”

  “Gucci briefcase, twelve hundred. I try to relax before big meetings by reading. Usually, I can get all the way to Salem without being accosted by some broke down lady’s man, not to mention carnival trick, smart asses.”

  Dupree laughed and did a drum roll on the table with the tips of his fingers. “So, who do you work for, if it isn’t a source of embarrassment?”

  “You are?” she paused.

  “Just the firm please.”

  “Johnson, Poulsen and Raye.”

  “Never heard of them. Land use litigation?” Dupree asked.

  “I’m not talking to you.”

  “It is a dead-end. You got too much going for you to get stuck in Backwater, Oregon, shuttling papers back and forth to the Capitol. That’s why you’re on the train. They’re too cheap to pay mileage, and your aging Toyota can’t stand up to miles.”

  “Just who are you?”

  “Name’s Dupree.”

  “Never heard of you.”

  “In your circles, I imagine not. I have hired, and not, a thousand just like you. It’s show biz kid, you have to hit the big note, get the big laugh, or ring the last tear out of your big scene. You have thirty seconds to do it in the big leagues.

  “Problem is, there is nowhere in this entire state for you to show your chops to anyone who makes a difference. You got spunk and style. Go to L.A. or New York, short of that, Chicago. I’d have hired you.”

  “For a black-eyed yahoo on a train from Ashland, you got a pretty good act, but I’ll wait for the movie.” She grabbed her briefcase and book and left the table.

  “Bitch,” said the woman across the aisle.

  “No, no, she is a very powerful young woman who is just too full of herself at the moment for her ears to work.” Dupree watched her stomp up the aisle. “Give her another five years. She’ll wake up.”

  “Where’d you get all that? Is it a trick, like on TV?”

  “Years of working in a world filled with people just like her. Some rise to the top, but most burn out, change professions, or become single person offices that sue for damages, collect on court awards, write up wills, and negotiate leases in strip malls.”

  Out the window, the sky was filling with threatening gray clouds. Before Dupree could fully appreciate the change in the weather, the clouds opened and a torrential rain drenched the countryside. The rain was a welcome distraction from the sunshine and dry grass of the mile upon mile of California freeways. The emerald fields of alfalfa, and plants Dupree could not identify, were pleasing to the eye and calming to the spirit. Small towns, and even smaller wide spots in the road rolled by, punctuated by old barns and even older houses. Cars at crossings watched and occasionally waved as the train flew past.

  Dupree stretched his legs out and rested them on the seat across from him. The car was quiet and there was very little movement, soon his eyes grew heavy. He let them rest, and before long he fell asleep. The jerking of the train braking woke him. As Dupree opened his eyes, he was greeted by a big blue and white Medford station sign.

  Nearly half the car exited when the train came to a stop. Out the window, the platform was crowded with dreadlocks, tie-dye, madras skirts, and huge backpacks. Everywhere he looked were green, yellow, and black striped knit caps, Grateful Dead t-shirts, alpaca print ponchos, and marijuana leaf patches.

  In the midst of the hippie gathering of the tribes stood a middle-aged Asian couple. Each held a small travel bag and laptop computer case. They smiled uncomfortably and waited patiently to board the train. Dupree hoped against hope that he would be able to have them sit with him. The thought of fifty or a hundred miles of patchouli oil, body odor, and wet hair was almost more than he could stand.

  The conductor announced the “all aboard” and the crowd on the platform moved toward the doors. Oddly, there was nowhere near the number of people boarding as Dupree originally thought. The hemp and deadlock crowd moving toward the train was only a fraction of the passengers. Most were left behind waving and cheering from the platform.

  The well-dressed Asian couple entered the far end of the car and began their way up the aisle. Dupree turned and looked out the window in hopes they wouldn’t see his appearance and be put off at the thought of sitting with him. To his delight, he felt them place their bags on the table. He quickly put his feet down.

  “May we join you?” the man asked.

  “Please do,” Dupree answered, still not turning fully.

  The woman slid in first and her husband followed. They moved quickly, unpacking small laptop computers, two books and a larger volume that looked like a Bible, but in a light tan cover. Dupree slowly turned and faced them. They placed the tan book between them and each placed their books to their left.

  “Going far?” the woman asked.

  “Washington,” Dupree replied.

  “We are going to Vancouver, to see our new grandson.” The woman smiled brightly and her eyes sparkled with excitement.

  “Our first,” the man nodded in agreement.

  “That’s wonderful,” Dupree smiled. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” The woman offered her hand and said, “We are the Chens. I’m Jill and this is my husband, Michael.”

  Dupree shook her hand, then her husband’s. “I’m Dupree. Nice to meet you, I was hoping you would join me. I was not excited at the prospect of a couple of those kids being with me for who knows how long.”

  “Oh, thank you very much.”

  “We like to ride the train. We can walk around, read and just relax.”

  “Looks like you are all set up there.” Dupree indicated the books and computers.

  “Yes, this works out well, they even have plugs!” Jill said, unwinding her power cord.

  Dupree never noticed, but there was an electrical plug at the end of the table.

  “Are you teachers?”

  “Goodness, no! This is our Bible study.”

  “Looked like something academic.”

  “We find it very challenging at times. Study takes a lot of time, thought and prayer,” Michael said.

  “Where are you folks from. Medford?” Dupree asked.

  “You mean where did we get these accents?” Jill giggled.

  “No, I…”

  “It’s OK, I was teasing. We are originally from Taiwan. Now we live in Washington, D.C. We’re retired.”

  “Nice. What kind of work did you do?”

  “Internet Technology for the government, I worked for the Federal Reserve.”

  “I worked for the Treasury Department,” Michael chimed in.

  “You certainly don’t look old enough to be retired.” Dupree smiled.

  “We came to the U.S. thirty-seven years ago. We’ve been married forty years,” Jill proclaimed proudly. “I think it’s time.”

  “Wonderful. Not many people make it that many years. I didn’t.”

  “When there are three partners in a marriage it is easy.”

  “Excuse me?” Dupree was shocked by this delightful little woman’s response.

  “Jesus, Michael, and I make a perfect team.”

  “I
see.” Dupree didn’t want the whole you need Jesus spiel.

  “Oh, sorry. Never talk about religion or politics with strangers.”

  “Usually works best,” Dupree agreed.

  “Can we have our lunch yet?” Michael asked, breaking the tension.

  Jill picked up one of the travel bags between them. “It’s only eight o’clock! He’s always hungry.”

  She pulled two plastic containers from the bag. Michael took one and removed the lid. Grapes. Jill popped another lid. That container was stuff with sliced red and yellow bell peppers.

  “Something’s missing,” Michael complained.

  “Hold on, I’ve got it.” Jill reached into the bag and pulled out a small bundle of something wrapped in aluminum foil.

  “You must try one of these. Jill makes the best egg rolls in the world.” The foil was pulled back to reveal a couple of dozen dark brown crispy egg rolls. “I hope you’re not Jewish or vegan because she loads them up with spicy ginger pork. Try one.”

  “Sounds great.” Dupree took an egg roll. He didn’t realize he was so hungry. “Wow! That is the best egg roll I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Michael beamed.

  “Absolutely delicious. Jill, you win the blue ribbon.”

  Dupree savored every bite. What a nice couple, he thought. If they leave off the Jesus stuff we’ll get along just fine. Still chewing, he turned to look out the window.

  The rain poured and the train rolled on. What a nice way to spend a day, Dupree thought. Safe, warm, and great scenery. His mind drifted to a summer his family went to Yellowstone National Park. It was one of the few real vacations they ever took. His father nervously plotted out each day, mileage and distance to the next destination. His mother made sandwiches and divided potato chips on the tailgate of their Chevy Impala station wagon. The sights and sounds of that trip still bring a smile to his face. That trip he heard his father sing for the first and last time in his life. For no apparent reason, other than a spontaneous outburst of sheer joy, his parents sang all the verses and choruses of Happy Trails to You, complete with, what Dupree would later learn were, harmonies.

  He smiled at the melancholy memory. It was a time he truly loved his family and the time they spent traveling the roads of western America. In an uncharacteristic change of plans, his father decided they would not go back the way they came but would travel on to see Mount Rushmore.

  “Are you sure, Papa?” he remembered his mother questioning.

  “My beautiful wife and wonderful son deserve the best trip this old shoe dog can give them!” His father slapped the steering wheel with his palm. “See the USA in a Chevrolet!” Again his father burst into song, with words of the TV commercial theme song. Dupree was dumbfounded. He and his mother laughed and then sang along as the ditty was repeated.

  The back of the station wagon was transported into a magic carpet where Dupree would lay and watch the tall mountains and tree go by. Propped up by pillows and cushioned by blankets, it was his window on the world for those two weeks that summer.

  His parents would sit close together on the big bench seat. Once or twice when the schedule required, his mother would drive and his father would nap, his head leaning against the window frame and the wind messing his normally perfect hair.

  His mother would sing and hum songs from church. Once she even sang a lovely version of Goodnight my Someone from The Music Man. She often played the soundtrack of the Broadway musical when she dusted the house. It was her favorite record.

  They took lots of pictures on the trip, and when they returned home his mother placed them all in an album with little notations and mementos she picked up on the trip.

  That was the best time their family ever spent together. Dupree still kept that photo album, one of the few things of his parents he bothered with. A furrowed frown crossed his brow as he realized he would never see it again.

  It was the last vacation they ever took. Upon their return, his father was informed that Danny, the assistant manager he left in charge of the store, stole the two weeks of receipts and disappeared the night before they got home. The District Manager informed his father that the loss would be adjusted against his annual sales that his yearly bonus was based on. That year there was no bonus. His father’s paranoia and lack of self-confidence took a death blow to the midsection. From then on, he would never leave for more than a day or two. So their travels were limited to a trip to the lake or a quick day at the beach. Dupree never heard his father sing again, and he never saw him look at the photo album.

  “Would you like another egg roll, Mr. Dupree?” Jill asked.

  The packet of egg rolls was nearly gone. “Yes please, they’re wonderful.”

  “Did you enjoy your nap?”

  “Nap?” Dupree was surprised he nodded out.

  Jill giggled. “You have been asleep for almost an hour. We are approaching Salem.”

  “I was asleep?”

  “Unless you snore when you’re awake,” Michael teased.

  “I am so sorry,” Dupree offered.

  “It must be your nose that made you snore. Can you breathe through your nose?”

  “Not much. At least it has stopped throbbing.” Dupree reached for an egg roll.

  Dupree took a bite of the egg roll and savored the ginger and green onion spiced pork. He chewed slowly and let his taste buds search for more subtle flavors.

  Over Michael’s shoulder, Dupree spotted the fiery young attorney coming back up the aisle toward him. What does she want? he thought. Maybe she’s just changing cars. Don’t make eye contact. After his nice chat with the Chens, he was no longer feeling like verbal sparring with her. Dupree looked down and pretended to study the egg roll.

  “Excuse me,” the familiar voice said.

  Dupree grudgingly looked up. He just knew she retreated to regroup and mount a stronger attack.

  “Oh, hi.” He sat a little straighter.

  The Chens looked up at the young woman standing at the end of the table and smiled. She ignored them.

  “I just wanted to apologize for our exchange earlier. I had no idea who…”

  “So, what a person’s Google profile says is more important than just being someone who might be interesting or you could learn from?”

  “Well, no. I just didn’t…” she stammered.

  “Realize that a stranger on a train may have something to offer of value, even if they have two black eyes?”

  “That’s not what…”

  “This is Michael and Jill. They came to the USA thirty-seven years ago. They’re on their way to see their new grandson. They’ve been married forty years. Is that cool or what? Can you imagine?”

  “That’s nice but…”

  “Do you know what they did before they retired?” Dupree pressed on.

  “How could I?”

  “You see my dear, that is a skill you sorely lack. If you don’t cultivate an interest in others, how will you ever be able to read them across the courtroom or conference table? How will you know a person’s strengths and weaknesses? The law is a battle of wits, personality, and maneuvering, as much as it is being the best researcher, brief writer, or smartest person in the room. Human nature and the qualities of the good and the bad, the honest and the devious, are always of more value in the heat of a litigation than Who vs Who, 1987. Now, take a look at my friends here. What did they do before they retired?”

  “I don’t know. I just want to have a chance…”

  “You don’t care either. Empathy is a very valuable gift. But it is also a tool that can be nurtured and used to great effect in building a strong client-attorney relationship.

  “I am giving you a master class in what separates the big fish from the minnows and the pros from the hacks.” Dupree pursed his lips and waited. “But you aren’t listening; you are just waiting to talk.”

  “Before, you said you would hire me. Can I arrange to get an interview?”

  “What I actually sa
id was, I would have hired you. This was your interview. I have reconsidered my initial impression of you. You need to get knocked around a bit before you are ready for a big firm. If this were an actual interview you would have bombed it, flunked out, blew your chance.”

  “But why?” The young woman’s chin shook and her eyes were filling with tears, either from embarrassment, disappointment, or both. Her confidence and swagger were completely gone. She looked like a high school kid who just lost the mock trial championship on a stupid error.

  “I introduced you to my friends, the Chens. I gave you a thumbnail bio, and I asked you what they did before they retired. You not only ignored them and my questions but pushed your own agenda even harder.”

  “They owned a restaurant.” Her voice gave way to panic.

  “Oh, no, no, no! Playing into racial stereotypes! That is beyond amateurish, immature, ill-informed, and frankly dangerous. I will not dignify your answer with the correct one.

  “Your stop is coming up. When you are waiting for the big important meeting you tried to impress me with, I want you to think about this conversation and see what, if anything, you can recall. What could you put into practice? After all, that is what you hope to do, right, practice law?”

  Dupree shook his head and cleared his throat. “I would like to say that it was nice to meet you but you are so self-centered you never bothered to introduce yourself to me, or my friends the Chens, even after I gave you their names. So you see, instead of creating a bond that later could be of benefit when reaching out to me or my firm, you, my dear, are just a nameless stranger on a train that I will soon forget.”

  The broken girl spun around and ran sobbing up the aisle.

  “Oh, Mr. Dupree that was very harsh,” Jill said sadly.

  “No, my dear Mrs. Chen, that is the world she has chosen. If she can’t take my honest counsel and a rather tepid reprimand of her attitude, she will be eaten alive in the real world of lawyers, clerks, and the law. At present she is like a fighter getting in the ring, not realizing someone was about to hit her. This was a great lesson, I hope. Kind of a way of her being brought face to face with what she can expect on a daily basis.”

  “But you seem to have left that world.”