My Cousin The Creep !!top!! -

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.

I pulled away. He laughed. And then he followed me for the rest of the night—not running, not yelling, just there . Refilling my drink when I wasn't looking. Waiting outside the bathroom. Appearing beside me in every group photo like a ghost who'd learned to smile. my cousin the creep

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. At first, I thought it was awkwardness

And if you're an aunt, an uncle, a parent, a grandparent—please. Stop calling it enthusiasm. Start calling it what it is. He laughed

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."

And that's the problem, isn't it? We do know how Danny is. We've always known. But knowing doesn't fix anything if no one says this isn't okay .