On the highway below, tourists on a passing double-decker bus waved avidly. Had they recognized Ms. Ruehl? Were they just waving to anyone on the High Line? Unclear.
“Hello, people down there,” Ms. Ruehl said.
“Welcome to New York,” Ms. Ferrara said.
“It’s a MetroCard city,” Mr. Feitel added.
“Come see ‘Torch Song,’” Ms. Ruehl said, sotto voce.
The talk turned back to the students. Ms. Ferrara wondered when producers would consider her for more substantial parts. Mr. Feitel mentioned that with Ms. Ruehl’s encouragement, he had recently lost 20 pounds. Ms. Ruehl reminded him that she’d also encouraged him to chop off his man bun.
She told them that she believed in both of them, in their potential, in their talent. “I don’t think I’ve been wrong yet,” she said.
“Oh my God, I might start to cry!” Ms. Ferrara said.
As they reached West 23rd Street, Ms. Ruehl headed for an elevator, but it was broken, so the group doubled back to a staircase and walked to Jim Kempner Fine Art, a gallery run by another classmate. They stopped in the courtyard, struck by a giant bronze head, a model of Michelangelo’s David.
“People said I had a big head, and now I do,” Mr. Kempner joked as he came out to meet them.
The statue had very orderly hair, and as they headed into the gallery, ringed with neon sculptures by Charlie Hewitt, Ms. Ruehl allowed herself a little vanity as she put a hand to her hair. “Does it look insane?” she asked.
