I was an only child, but not by choice. My mother and father tried desperately to have another baby. They thought it was written in the stars, but all the stars in the sky had to die eventually. Regardless, their faith in each other, God, and miracles never diminished.

They never conceived another baby, but they brought new life into our Texan household. That life came in the form of my cousin Shawn. He was the miracle blessed onto my family, but people often forgot his mother had to die before he was so unceremoniously delivered unto us.

Nevertheless, mother loved him. Father loved him. I hated him. I was happy having my own space, my own toys, my own parents, but God saw fit to make me share. I was a resentful little shit. The tragic part might have been how much Shawn and I had in common. He was my age, my height, my color. In a dark room, his voice might have been my own; we could have been twins. But more importantly, we both had a fondness for trouble beyond our years. Where we differed was in the mind.

I won't say I was brighter, but my cousin was never a bookworm. As such, he would often fail where I succeeded. From stealing cookies to taking coins out of the family register.

I didn't have to work on a scheme to rid myself of cousin Shawn. He was already pulling stones from under his feet.

Father warned that if Shawn did one more thing out of line, he'd be sent to live with our less favorable grandmother. He was walking on egg shells. He should have been anyway. In any case, though I knew he'd slip up eventually, I decided to give him the final push.

I stole two hundred dollars from the register and tried to hide it under his pillow. Sadly, my cousin was a light sleeper.

He got up, and I got angry. Our fight woke Father, and when he walked in on us punching the mud out of one another, he couldn't say who had stolen the money for sure. I had never been caught, never been spanked, but the money was in my hand.

I might have taken my chance to throw Shawn to the coyotes, but to my surprise, he spoke up before I could.

He took the blame. He lied in my favor, and I let him. I was happy to see him burn. Needless to say, that was the last straw. That was the last time I saw my cousin Shawn for a long while. That was the first time I was almost caught, and the only thing that saved me was the kindness of a cousin I abandoned.

We were 15 when Shawn went away, but I had to admit, I came to think of him more after that day. He was the blessing I overlooked. But God was merciful where I could never be, and on my 17th birthday, Shawn had come home. Only time would tell if he were an angel loyal to his family or turned into something without allegiance.

We hadn't seen each other in two years. Did he remember? Did my cousin remember who sent him away? We were older. Would he have held a grudge for so long, could he? As friends and family stood around singing happy birthday at the table, I heard his voice like the rest. All eyes were on me, but his felt threatening until I blew out the candles.

Who invited my cousin back from hell?

"Cousin Shawn is here," I said to my mother after the cake had been cut.

Everyone had dispersed from the kitchen to find their own private spots around the house. Rather than sampling the red velvet on my plate, I pestered Mother while she was washing dishes.

"Your father and I meant to tell you."

"Tell me what?" I asked, but just then as Mother might have answered, I found myself cornered.

"Shawn?" I said as he wrapped his arms around me in an unearned hug.

"Marcus, long time no see," he said and let me go.

"What are you doing here?"

"Thought I'd come down a little early for your birthday."

What did he mean by early?

"Thanks," I said.

We didn't look the same anymore, but we were never the same. His worn clothes and wild hair coupled with the scars along his arms told a story, much like my button-down and silver watch.

"I wanted to say thank you for letting me in. I know when we were younger, you hated sharing your toys, but this time I'll let you have the top bunk," he added, but all I could do was look to my mother.

When my eyes returned to the unwelcome guest, he had already started on his way out of the room.

"Mom, what is he doing here?"

It was happening again. Shawn was moving in.

After my party was over I said goodbye to my guests. When they left, I noticed Shawn lugging his stuff from my dad's truck up to the guest room. The guest room was across the hall from my bedroom.

"Mind helping me with my stuff, cousin?" He asked when my watching grew too blatant to miss.

I followed him up the steps and down the hall to the right till he sat his load down. Standing in the doorway, I asked, "How long are you staying?"

He didn't stop moving. After a breath, he went back out to get the last of his things, and I was right behind him.

"Don't know," he answered.

When we got to the truck he tossed me a bag.

"What happened to grandma?"

"She died a month ago," he told me.

"What?!"

"I'm getting the feeling you didn't know I was coming," he suggested while we walked back in.

"I didn't."

"Marcus," Dad called for me just as Shawn and I were about to hit the stairs.

He and my Mother were in the living room. I didn't want to make them wait, so I gave Shawn his bag to carry up. When he walked off I went to my parents.

"Grandma died?" I asked before either of them could say anything.

"There's no use dancing around a cactus. Your cousin is staying with us for now on," Father explained.

"For how long?"

"As long as he needs," He added.

"But," I started until Mother told me, "I know the two of you never got along when you were younger, but Shawn doesn't have anywhere else to go."

"I can think of somewhere for him," I mumbled.

I could hear him upstairs already moving stuff around, probably setting up for war.

"Marcus, you will be kind. Do you understand?" Father scolded me.

"Yes, Dad. But a heads up would have been nice," I tried to joke, but he only remarked, "He's here now, and that's all that matters."