“Have I been open and honest with you?” I asked.“Yes.”“And have you been open and honest with me?”“I suppose not,” she said.“Suppose...not?”“All right,” she spat, “no. Happy now?”“No Cal, I’m not.”“You’re not?” she asked, a note of surprise in her voice, “why?”“Because I haven’t got my Cal anymore,” I said, softly.“But I’m here,” she objected.“Yes,” I agreed, “but you’re not my Cal anymore, you’re just Cal.”“And you’re going out with Kathy aren’t you?” she asked.“We’re friends, but nothing more. She had a medical escort who would see she got on the plane OK, and two pieces of paper, one detailing the date of the appointment with her psychiatrist and the other a prescription for zinc supplements were in her pocket. She was feeling much better about herself than when she entered treatment for the eating disorder. Her parents had caught the symptoms nice and early before it had developed into full-blown Anorexia Nervosa, and for once she could feel gratitude that her mother was such a. More

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