Kingsbridge (a Nas Story)

FIVE

??? | October 2016

"I've never seen this footage of my mother before."

The paused frame of my mother's 1998 interview was presented before me by the team conducting interviews about my father's life in the form of a documentary.

"Your mother was pregnant with you here at the time of this Vogue interview." Said the interviewer behind the filming crew. "You didn't know this at all?"

"Not at all." I scoffed in disbelief at how radiant my mother looked. Her skin was glowing and deep brown in tone. My tone was what my father gave me. His lips too. The rest of her features were mine to carry now.

When I stand next to my father, they say I resemble him. But when I stand next to my mother, they assume we're fraternal twins. I tucked my micro link extensions behind my ear and stare at the younger version of my mother.

"So, do you think your parents are as cool as they hoped they'd be?" The interviewer piggy-backed off of my mother's statement.

"Hell yeah." I laughed nervously. "I mean, I look at my mom's photo albums to draw inspiration from her looks. My father? That's a different story." I tapped my acrylic nails against the wooden arm rest of the chair I was sitting in.

"I mean, his QB chain alone birthed a lot of chains you see rappers wearing today. The bandana around his head? He started that along with Mobb. One of the first rappers to wear Versace fresh off the runway. No one was and is doing it like Nasir Jones." I say with a braced bracket smile on my face.

"Now, we asked your brother this question and we want to ask you the same. What was it like growing up with Nas as your father?"

I sat there for a moment and thought about my early childhood days. Those moments where it was just he and I. The songs we'd sing together. The father-daughter dances we'd attend at my school. I sighed before answering.

"I didn't know my father was Nas. I knew him as 'Daddy'. He was like any other dad I had seen. He would pick me up from school. Drop me off. Help me with my homework while he was recording his music. We'd go to Disneyland. He didn't teach me how to drive, but he bought me my first car."

I laughed a bit at the thought of my mom taking over my driving lessons because he couldn't drive legally to save his life. Decent driver, though. Just didn't have his papers. I had to take him to the DMV this year to get registered—finally.

"We've had our moments. What father and daughter doesn't? But, Nas didn't raise me. Nasir did." I say with sincerity.

"Well, we asked your father years ago how it felt to have a baby girl for the first time. Would you like to see his response?" The interviewer smiled at me before preparing the footage on the monitor for me. I crossed my legs in the chair and nodded.

The tape began to play in front of me as I focused my gaze on a younger version of my father. The interview had taken place in July of 1998. My mother was beside him, holding his hand as they were leaving a shopping center in Manhattan, from the looks of things.

My father turned to the camera and smiled, showing his chipped tooth that I missed.

His glasses were Versace. Black in color and smoke in the shades of his lenses. His wedding band was blinding the camera as he gave a peace sign to the interviewer who followed my parents to my dad's Benz as they were leaving the shopping center.

"Hey Nas, Gia. How's it going?"

Nasir | July 1998

"Life is good, man. How you?"