I Carry the Weight of the World on My Shoulders

"Shit!!” Billie Joe exclaimed as the junk spilled down from the boxes onto him, as he frantically tried to close the wardrobe door.

“I warned you about that,” the bassist said, putting down his paintbrush to help his friend close the door.

“Really? I don’t remember,” he nursed his head from where a pile of old comics had fallen onto him.

“I did. At the same time I said its best if the social workers are in here for the shortest time possible. Then hopefully they won’t notice all the small things.” Mike said.

They were cleaning up Mike’s old room for Madelyn, starting by removing all the junk and making it look clean and friendly. So far they had stripped off the walls, and Mike was painting them white, while Billie was cleaning the drawers and cupboards.

"Well...we have to clean this up now...let's just hurry," the guitarist said and started to hurry up cleaning the junk.

Once they finished cleaning that, they made sure that everything was perfect for Madelyn.

Billie Joe had bought her a twin-sized bed, and they put some teddy bears and stuff in the room. They also put a flower border to make it feel more homey for her. Tré had suggested making everything pink, but Billie Joe and Mike both resented the idea.

They walked out into the kitchen, where Tré had done a pretty good job of tidying up, and was now eating ice-cream straight out of the container.

"I got that especially for Madelyn. Not for pigs like you Tré!" Mike exclaimed.

"What's in it?" the guitarist said, looking closely at the ice cream in question.

"I can't believe Mike only got vanilla. And it was dull and boring, so I made some additions. It was rather lacking in the liquor department." The drummer said proudly.

"You were planning on feeding my daughter alcoholic ice-cream?"

"I don't see why not."

"Is there anything in this house which isn't alcoholic?" Billie Joe asked as he opened the fridge. The previous day there would have been rotten remains of a salad, and some milk, but now the fridge was clean. And full of bottles.

"This isn't." Mike said, extracting a half full bottle of coke and sampling some. "Actually, no, scratch that. There isn't anything in this house for a kid to eat."

"We need to go to the store then." The guitarist said.

"But Madelyn will be arriving soon. Can we trust Tré to go on his own?" his best friend asked.

Billie Joe nodded. It would be best if Tré wasn't around when the social workers were. "Okay, Tré, can you please go to the store and buy some more food?"

* * *

"Bill, there's a car outside." Mike called out.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit." Billie said.

"Billie, calm down. Everything'll be okay," the bassist said and put his hand on Billie's shoulder.

Billie Joe went and sat down in the living room, waiting nervously for the social worker to come to the door.

Their apartment building wasn't that big, and they all new which cars were the regulars. But this car wasn't.

They heard the buzzer, which meant that someone was downstairs.

"Hello," Billie Joe said, opening the door to the people outside. There was a strict looking woman in a suit, pulling a pink suitcase with one hand, and holding hands with a child on the other side.

"Mr Armstrong?" she asked, setting down the suitcase.

"Please, call me Billie Joe." the guitarist smiled as they shook hands. "Come on up"

"Is this you?" the social worker asked, pointing at the framed picture beside the "Look for Love" vinyl that hung on the wall halfway up the stairs.

"Urm..., yes. I recorded it when I was five."

By now they were at the top of the stairs. The social worker finally let go of Madelyn's hand and the pair of them looked around.

"Would you like me to show you around?" Billie Joe asked, breaking the awkwardness. He would have offered them a drink, but Tré hadn't returned from the store yet.

"Sure." she replied, then looked at the little girl beside her. "Madelyn, this will be your new home."

"But what about Mommy? Where she?" the little girl asked.

"Madelyn, I spoke to you about this before. Mommy isn't coming back. But now you have your father to look after you." the social worker said, bending down to the height of the upset girl.

"I don't have a daddy! Some of my friends have a daddy, but not me." she said, starting to cry.

"Madelyn, you do have a daddy. He's right here. Mr Armstrong is your daddy."

"Really?" the girl asked, looking at Billie Joe.

"Hey Madelyn," the guitarist said, patting her shoulder. "I'm your daddy. I'll look after you now. And I did have some ice-cream, but Uncle Tré ate it, so he's at the store to get some more. You can have it when he gets back."

Madelyn's face lit up when the ice-cream was mentioned. "Really? I love ice cream."

"That's good." the man said, taking her hand. "Do you want to see your new room?"

He lead her to the room, while the social worker followed behind, noting stuff on her clipboard.

"Is this mine?" Madelyn asked. The white paint had done wonders for the room, making it seem so much bigger and lighter.

"Yep. All of it. And tomorrow we'll go out to get some more pretty things."

"I take it she likes her room then." Mike said, stepping up behind them.

"Yeah. So do I." Billie said smiling. "Madelyn, this is Mike."

"Hello," she said shyly.

"Is he your partner?" the social worker cut in. Both men laughed.

"No." Billie Joe said. "We've been best friends since we were 10."

"Oh... okay then. How many other people live here with you then?"

"Just one, our other friend... Tr... Frank. He's out at the store."

"Alright then. Well, everything seems to be alright here. I'll be checking in once in a while without notice to see how things are going." The social worker said.

"Okay. Thank you," Billie Joe said and shook her hand.

"Bye Madelyn," she said.

"Bye," the eight-year old said.

"So...Madelyn, why don't we put your things in your room and we'll wait for uncle Tré to come back with the ice cream," Billie Joe said.

"Okay..." Madelyn said.

Billie Joe picked up her suitcase and brought it into the room. This was definitely awkward. But he was going to get used to it. He was just scared about when Madelyn met Tré.

"Can I bring my dolly with me?" The small girl asked.

"Sure. Do you want me to get it out for you?" Billie Joe asked.

His daughter nodded.

The guitarist unzipped the suitcase and got out the doll that was in it. He handed it to his daughter and they walked into the living room.

Now that he had met her, he noticed that she looked a lot like him. She had long curly brown hair, and bright green eyes.

"I'm back!" A familiar voice screamed as the door opened.

When Madelyn saw the green-haired man in the doorway, she screamed, and ran back to her room.

"Did you have to do that?" Billie Joe asked his friend. Tré laughed, and followed Billie as he went after Madelyn.

They could hear quiet sobs coming from her room, and saw her trying unsuccessfully to hide between the bed and the wall. Tré pulled out his fake nose, and went over closer, to try and make Madelyn laugh.

"Hello Madelyn. I'm sorry I scared you."

"Ahh! MOMMY!!" she screamed, crying harder, clearly traumatized by the man with green hair and the funny nose who was pulling faces at her.

"Eh, that's enough." the guitarist stepped in, pulling the drummer away from his daughter, and sitting down on her bed.

"Daddy, what's that crazy man doing here?" she asked, shuffling closer to her father.

"That's my friend Tré." he replied, comforting his distressed daughter.

"I don't like him." She said and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Really? He's actually very funny. And very good at music."

"He has a green head." Billie Joe couldn't help but laughing at that comment.

"Madelyn, Tré is actually very nice, and once you know him, he won't be scary. And he just got back from the store with ice cream for you. Do you want to go eat it now?"

"Okay," she shuffled closer to the guitarist and whispered something to him. "As long as you stay with me."

"I will." he said taking her hand and walking into the kitchen.

Tré was sitting at the table, eating his special ice cream. Upon seeing Madelyn and Billie Joe enter, he stood up.

"I'm sorry Madelyn." the drummer pouted. She laughed, because he had managed to get ice cream everywhere, including his green hair.

"Why don't you sit down next to uncle Tré while I get the ice cream ready?" Billie said. She reluctantly sat down next to Tré who had already resumed scoffing down his ice cream.

"Why can't I have some of his ice cream?" she asked.

"It's not very nice ice cream. I have nice stuff over here for you."

"Okay," the eight-year old replied.

* * *

"What's for dinner?" Madelyn asked. She was sitting in between Mike and Billie watching TV. The scary man had gone out, leaving her alone to watch cartoons with her father and other uncle.

"Umm..." Billie Joe looked at his friend for ideas. Mike shrugged. "I dunno. Whatever you want to eat, hun."

Her face lit up. "Can we please eat McDonalds?" she asked.

"I don't see why not. What do you want?"

"Can I have a Happy Meal. Please?"

"Sure. Can you please go and get it Mike?" The man nodded as he left.

"Daddy, I like you a lot. You're very nice to me." she said, yawning as she hugged her father.

"That's good. I like you too. How about bedtime after Mike comes back? Because it's getting late, and you traveled a long way to get here."

"Yeah." she nodded, yawning again.

It wasn't long before Mike was back with the food, and Madelyn was almost asleep at the table.

"Come along. Bedtime for you." Billie said, grabbing her hand and taking her to her room.

"What about bath time?"

Billie had totally forgotten about those sorts of things, and they didn't have a bathtub, only a shower. "Umm... how about we sort that out tomorrow?"

"Okay Daddy," Madelyn said as she went over to her suitcase and pulled out a matching pink pyjama set and a teddy bear that looked pretty warn. It looked as if she had it for a while. Then she climbed into bed.

"Goodnight, honey." The guitarist said as he tucked her in, and placed the teddy beside her, which she quickly grabbed on to.

"Goodnight Dad.." she said as she fell asleep.

Billie smiled as he turned out the light and closed the door. He had never realized just how hard it was to be a parent.