Veronica showing up to read for the part of Curley's Wife was a stunning and welcome shock. I could hardly contain myself. Actually I could and did contain myself, I'm an actor for cripe's sake.
I didn't flinch when perfect little Goddess Veronica walked into the Grange hall. She was alone, dressed in loose- fitting faded blue jeans and a crisp, yet relaxed, white t-shirt, with adorable leather sandals wrapped around cute, cuddly feet.
Fresh and clean as a baby chick Veronica was; I was very aware (but still self contained), that if she was even half-way good at acting she would be awarded the part of Curley's wife (which would mean she and I would be rehearsing together all summer long).
Here I was, finally-after all the years studying lines-sitting idle for hours at rehearsals, waiting back stage during hundreds of shows, driving to practices and performances in all kinds of horrendous weather for nothing but the thrill of the curtain call, about to, possibly, have a theatre romance. And, by gol, why the heck does a former truck-driving, concrete-slinging son of a gun like myself get involved with theatre in the first place? To emote? No-to have a theater romance.
I did not know Veronica beyond having watched her change into her jammies on stage in a play two summers before. I was fairly sure I was in love with her, or at least, severely crushed up about her. I felt Veronica was perfect in all ways; standing two feet from her staring into her green eyes about to read a scene together did nothing but intensify my feeling.
I don't want to be a spoiler for the 13 people out there who don't know what happens between Curley's wife and Lenny (my part) in the play of "Mice and Men", so I'll just say their only scene together isn't one you'd describe as being, namby-pamby. It's not ultimately tender-it's un Mama Miaish. It's a fantastic scene though.