The Best Eye Doctor in Beverly Hills

zero point with tear in space (2012)

 

Originally published on "catnip and mint" June 2012

 

Rodney King died. But before he died, he was beaten up. And as a result, the City of Angels beat itself up and burned itself down. A few weeks after the beating, I sat next to Rodney King in a doctor's office. I needed new glasses, so my grandmother sent me to her optometrist for an exam. "He's the best eye doctor in Beverly Hills," she assured me confidently. 

 

I drove my Chevette Scooter to the doctor's office in Beverly Hills after school. I parked in the garage, and took an elevator up to any floor, and walked through a dimly lit hallway flanked by nondescript doors on either side, all leading to specialized medicines of the ear, nose, throat, eyes, and heart.

 

I checked myself in with the receptionist, took a seat with two other patients-in-waiting, and started to rifle through a boring stack of dated magazines. the door clicked open and a new patient hobbled in leaning on a cane heavily. It was Rodney King.

 

I listened closely for confirmation that it was indeed Rodney King, but he did not say his name and the receptionist didn't extend a chirpy and generic greeting in return. The doctor's office was expecting him, and we all knew who it was. The whole wide world knew this man.

 

He wore a neck brace, his face was still raw, and one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut. Of course he needed to see an eye doctor. I only had finals to get ready for, but this dude needed a full medical evaluation.

 

Exhibit A: LAPD beat the shit out of him.

 

Rodney sat down next to me. There were two other white adults in the room, but he went with the light skinned adolescent female; solidarity. Apparently, his attorneys agreed with my grandma about this doctor's expertise.

 

I rifled through my green Jansport backpack, and took out a notebook and pen. I wrote a letter to my best friend. Decades before the text message, recording my thoughts on paper was all I could do to capture this moment. It likely read:

     

         dear dani:

         i am at the eye doctors and you will never believe 

         who just sat down next to me!!!!! rodney king! 

         i guess he needs an eye exam too. good luck with 

         your finals, xo, coco ps-- camp in three weeks!

 

The camcorder footage of his victimization was a unique occurrence at the time, and it was the novelty of this kind of surveillance that made it possible for him to wait in the doctor's office with us as well. I am glad that Rodney King had some dignity in that doctor's office that day, and could wait in reception with the rest of us, with me.

 

This space does not exist anymore. The lack of privacy and the expediency with which we can communicate have eliminated these quiet spaces of delay.

 

There is dignity in the delay, and sometimes grace requires space to unfold.