Rob should be home. It’s his night off. New Year’s Eve is a night away, and we have plans like millions of others to be in Times Square. I have a reprieve for the night after having performed the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy seven nights and days in a row. Christmas is over, and the NYC Ballet takes the next three weeks off. Classes and rehearsals don’t start up until mid-January. The thought of another long tour in Europe kicking off in Paris by April doesn’t hold as much appeal this time around. I have virtually lived out of a suitcase for the past year. I’ve been thinking about making a trip home to San Fran. Marla will be there for a few weeks staying with her parents before heading back to UCLA. I need to see mine. And I allow myself to briefly contemplate seeing Tremblay and Cara. Everything worked out. Europe was amazing. My performances got better and better. Sasha is pleased. Living with Rob is a non-event because I’m rarely here. He complains a little about me being gone all the time, but we are just friends.
