Every family has one. Ours just happened to be named Danny.
At first, I thought it was awkwardness. Danny was the kid who laughed a beat too late at jokes, who stared at your mouth when you spoke, who saved used tissues in his pockets "just in case." But as we got older, the word creep started fitting like a too-small coat. my cousin the creep
The turning point came at a cousin's wedding. I was 22, Danny was 24. I hadn't seen him in two years. He found me by the dessert table and wrapped an arm around my waist before I could step back. "There she is," he said, breath hot on my ear. "My favorite cousin." Every family has one
If you have a cousin like Danny, don't wait for someone else to draw the line. You can love your family and still say stay away from me . You can forgive someone's past without offering up your future peace. Danny was the kid who laughed a beat
When we were kids, "creepy" wasn't a word I would have used. Danny was just weird—the kind of weird that made other aunts whisper and uncles exchange glances over holiday dinners. He was two years older than me, and at every family gathering, he'd find a reason to stand too close. Not touching. Just... hovering. Like he was waiting for something.
The grown-ups called it "enthusiasm." My mom said he was lonely. My dad said he'd grow out of it.