Mary's family -- blustering Archie Bunker father, mousy devout-Catholic mother, hippie older brother (away visiting his girlfriend), and possibly-gay kid brother Jake, lived in one of the dull, faceless suburbs of Chicago, in a small two-story house surrounded by thousands of other small two-story houses.
Her father needed the car to drive to work, and there were no buses in the suburbs. Mary’s friend drove us to the Mall and for pizza, and one day we all drove to Axehead Lake. Otherwise we were stuck in the house for five days and six nights.
Mary’s "kid brother" Jake was sixteen, only two years younger than me, slim, lightly tanned, with short blond hair. He had a naturally tight, hard physique that would, with a little weight training, develop into something spectacular.
When I asked in private, he told me that he had a girlfriend, a cheerleader with very large breasts. Her name was Tessa, or maybe Tina, and she lived in Aurora, or maybe Naperville (the details changed from day to day). Of course they had sex, frequently and enthusiastically, whenever she came to town to cheer for her team.
Today I would find this story suspect, but in 1979 I took it as proof positive of heterosexual identity.
At night, we shared a room. We stripped down to our briefs and lay atop mussed sheets on single beds, separated only by a nightstand.
Just after midnight on Saturday, my last night in Chicago, I awoke to a door slamming, footsteps, and a furious discussion between two voices, then three, then four. I surmised that Mary’s older brother (I don't remember his name) had come home unexpectedly after a fight with my girlfriend. Not willing to be kicked out of my bed, I kept my eyes tightly shut and pretended to be asleep. After awhile I heard footsteps, a whispered conversation with Jake, and then scuffling and bed-creaking. When I dared open my eyes, a big, thickly-muscled jock in white underwear lay in the opposite bed, cradling Jake in his arms. Both were facing me, asleep or pretending to be. Their legs were intertwined.
“Jake,” I murmured. “Move over here. More room."
A moment later Jake was under the covers, his head against my chest. Then our legs intertwined. After awhile there were mouths and hands, and a murmured “Don’t wake up my brother."
At some point during the night, Jake returned to his brother's arms.
After an egg-and-bacon casserole, roasted potatoes, and rolls with orange marmalade, our friend Rich and his girlfriend picked us up for the three-hour trip back to Rock Island.
In the car, I announced that Jake was definitely straight. He even had a girlfriend.