Everyone is happy. Or at least, I knew we were. It was a national holiday and so everyone had their day off at the park where Jihyuk and I were. After so many months, skateboarding was still a big problem for her. With a big frown on her face, she was sitting on a bench and watching me glide above the board with ease. “It’s so easy to learn,” I told her, showing off by kicking the end of the board up and catching it with my hands. She added a sigh to her frown. “It’s just balance, Jihyuk, like riding a bike,” I said, laughing at her expression.

I set the skateboard down and held my hand out. “You should keep trying,” I encouraged, and let her wound her arm around my neck to support her weight. The wheels started rolling underneath her and I followed her pace slowly. “You should keep practicing. You’ll be skating around the house in no time.”

“It seems like there are just some people born for something, you know,” she said and sighed deeply. “Like how you’re born for driving cars and skateboarding and like how I’m just born for riding the bus and just plain walking.”

I turned to look at her and saw how exasperated she was. I bit my lip to suppress a laugh. “Hey,” I called out, waiting for her to look back at me. I kissed her pouting lips. “You can do this. Trust me. You’re the best at everything you set your mind to.” I ruffled her hair, trying to cheer her up. But she looked like she was pretty down that day – similar to those days when she didn’t feel like talking at all – which made me feel like I did something unforgivable. We ended up just walking hand in hand along the park.

“About the party on Saturday…” I started. Jihyuk turned to face me slowly. “What do I have to do to make you come with me?” I said, almost pleading.

She smiled, looking ahead. “Don’t feel so anchored to me. Just go by yourself. And besides, I don’t know anyone there. By the time we go back home, I’ll just feel so out of place. Better yet, bring Hyukjae with you.”

“I don’t want to,” I protested. “I want to go with you. Think of it, like, an adult prom. And I want you to be my adult prom date.” She laughed, but shook her head anyway. Then she raked a hand through her hair as we walked. So beautiful but so difficult. I sighed. She’s worth it anyway.

We walked along the rocky path, our feet falling into a silent rhythm against the gravel. I watched the people who pass by – watch how two children run around their parents sitting on a picnic mat spread out on the grass. And I wondered if their parents were happy. I wonder which one of them stays awake at night while wondering how to pay the bills or who gets to discipline the children. I wonder if the mother has bruises and hand marks that she desperately hides under her sleeves, and how she manages to smile and laugh after all of that. I wonder if father is cheating behind his wife’s back, wonder if the lover is a colleague or a high school sweetheart, wonder if he ever thinks of his children, if he ever remembers his wedding day and his wedding vows, and wonder if he cares about his family.

“Dr. Lee!”

My ears perked up to the sound of someone calling me. I saw a woman rushing to meet me. “Oh, Nurse Cho! What are you doing here?” I immediately felt uneasy seeing someone from the hospital. All the stress from work came rushing back to me.

“Oh, you know,” she shrugged. “I’m just making the most out of the day.”

I nodded and glanced at Jihyuk. “Jihyuk, this is Nurse Cho from the hospital. Nurse Cho, this is my girlfriend,” I said and smiled.

Her eyes traveled down to our linked hands. “He’s too formal. I’m Eunyoung. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, to which Jihyuk replied with a smile. She was feeling uneasy and it was evident with the way she was tensed and stiff.

“So, Donghae,” Eunyoung started. “Are you going to the party this weekend?” She led us to the nearest bench where we sat.

I shrugged. “I was thinking of it, and I’m still waiting for someone’s approval to come with me to the event.” Jihyuk nudged my arm slightly. “But if Jihyuk can’t really be persuaded…”

“I heard the entire board of directors would be there,” Eunyoung announced suddenly, although it didn’t change my mind. When I didn’t speak, I thought she would have just taken it as her cue to leave. But she continued, “I think your brother would be there too. I mean, not to act too curious—” But she was being really, really curious, not to mention nosy. “What was so important for you to disown your brother like that?”

Jihyuk’s hand left mine and she clutched onto the skateboard tighter. When she prepared to leave, I held onto her arm to prevent her. Turning to Eunyoung, “Do you still have anything to say?” I asked, hoping she’ll understand that I didn’t want her to be there anymore. She nodded, and I fought the urge to sigh in desperation.

“I wanted to ask you about the rate of success in using stem cell therapy for amyotrophic lateral sclerosis like in the case for the patient in room 304 and for learning deficits in children,” she said, suddenly shifting to more serious topics.

Years and years of learning kicked in and I felt more comfortable talking to her. “For ALS, the stem cells are injected into the spinal cord, especially the motor nerves. And then the cells will regenerate the ablated motor cells to restore the locomotor function. The rate of success, however, depends on the rate at which the body responds to the injected cells and rate at which the body heals the cells.”

“I can’t say the same for the birth defects, though, since I only know of the experiment being tried on mice. Pregnant mice were exposed to heroine and organophosphate, causing the offspring to have deteriorating learning. When the stem cells were injected into the brain through direct neural stem cell transplantation, the recovery was almost a hundred percent. There was an astounding result in mental and behavioral tests. I don’t really specialize on these kinds of treatment. I mean, I’ve read a lot but I can’t have a significant opinion on this.”

“Given some time,” Eunyoung said thoughtfully. “A few years maybe, and stem cell therapy won’t be as controversial as it is now.”

“It’s not only about moral issues,” I argued. “It’s about the risk as well. The danger is great, and so great cautious is required. There should be proper training and studies first. But I think you’re right.”

“What about you Jihyuk?” Eunyoung said. “Do you really think somatic cell nuclear transfer technology results to minimal to no cell rejection?”

Jihyuk looked lost. “W-what?” She glanced at me questioningly.

Eunyoung pressed for more. “The generated cells will match the recipient’s genetic material so perfectly, almost as if it were the recipient’s own. The scientists said they used SCNT technology. Do you really think it’s effective for treating, like, Parkinson’s, Huntington’s, diabetes mellitus, and others?”

The woman in question fidgeted with her hands in nervousness. “I really don’t know about those things,” she admitted. ”Maybe I’ll have to read more about it.”

And just like that, Eunyoung looked away, uninterested. For the rest of the conversation, no matter how much I tried making Jihyuk talk, she was still focused on her phone. After almost five minutes passed, Hyukjae came. I knew it was no coincidence. Jihyuk told him to come. “I’ll go with Hyuk for the meantime,” she excused herself and left, not giving me a chance to disapprove.

After a while or so, when Eunyoung had finally left, I let out a sigh in relief. I watched as Jihyuk held onto Hyukjae’s hand as she moved more confidently and fluently above the board. The confidence wavered when he removed his hand and let her go alone, but it was as if that moment of fear made her braver. She wasn’t alone. She was independent. Hyukjae ran to and waited at the other end. By the time Jihyuk reached that makeshift finish line all by herself, they burst out laughing. When her eyes met mine, the smile didn’t waver – it died altogether.

The saying that everyone is happy is a lie.