**Revised on 11/25**
“Aguadilla Autumn”
Page One
Panel 1. A
hospital room in Aguadilla, Puerto Rico.
JUAN holds up a fat, palm-sized white seashell with sparkly-eyed glee
for bedridden ISABEL. They are both
eighteen years old, and while Juan is fit and handsome, Isabel is approaching
the end stage of cancer. Her frame is
frail and her hair is all gone, but she still has a pretty face and big, dark
eyes. Juan’s enthusiasm elicits a meek grin
from Isabel. There is a window opposite
the door to the hallway, and across from Isabel’s bed hangs a standard analog
clock. It is roughly 6:00pm.
1 JUAN:
The best shell I ever found! Can you believe my luck?*
2 ISABEL:
But it looks the same as all the others.
3 CAPTION:
*Translated from Spanish.
Panel 2. Juan
raises a finger, a mischievous smile accompanying it. Isabel crosses her arms, her head leaning to
one side to suggest playful doubt. We’re
going to keep the true nature of their relationship purposely ambiguous, but
they are not brother and sister.
4 JUAN:
Isabel, I’ve been collecting one shell a week since we
were five years old.
5 JUAN:
Let me tell you--not a single one of them looks the same.
Panel 3. Isabel
snatches the shell away from Juan in a sudden burst of energy, all of which
makes Juan nervous.
6 ISABEL:
And when do you plan to return them all to the
sea?
7 JUAN:
Well, I don’t know.
Panel 4. Juan
closes his hands around Isabel’s hand, which still contains the shell. They lock eyes.
8 JUAN:
But I want you to have this one. I found it for you.
9 JUAN:
It reminds me of you, actually.
Page Two
Panel 1. Isabel
inspects the shell in her hands more closely, depression apparent in her features.
1 ISABEL:
Of me? Am I so
pale?
Panel 2. Juan
grimaces, disgusted with himself, a hand resting on Isabel’s shoulder.
2 JUAN:
Of course not! And
neither is the shell.
3 JUAN:
I see so much color.
Panel 3. Isabel gives
Juan a pensive stare. He doesn’t really
know what to make of it.
4 ISABEL:
Like with leaves?
5 JUAN:
What?
6 ISABEL:
There are places where the leaves turn beautiful colors
in autumn. The leaves never change color
in Aguadilla.
Panel 4. Isabel
rolls over in her bed in the foreground, facing toward the window (and us) and
away from Juan, but she continues to clutch the shell. Juan, feeling disconnected from her now, has
backed up closer to the doorway.
7 ISABEL:
I wish I could see the leaves change color.
Panel 5. The
hospital hallway. Juan stands in place
with his head down, his eyes and mouth scrunched tight, a single tear headed
down his cheek. “Pabellón del Cáncer”
(cancer ward) is printed on a sign on the wall.
Children’s drawings colored in crayon litter a pin board. There is a calendar displaying “octubre”
(October, naturally). No dialogue.
