“I’m thirty-two years old and I can’t buy my own things without your permission!” Marvin shouted.

“Everything you have is thanks to my work!” she screamed back. “You don’t know how to live one day without me!”

For the first time in his life, Marvin heard the exact words he had tried to impose on me.

Two weeks later he agreed to mediation at a coffee shop near the courthouse. I came with Mr. Raymond. Marvin came alone — dark circles under his eyes, an unkempt beard, a stained sweatshirt.

“My mom doesn’t live with me anymore,” he said before he even sat down. “She packed up and went to her sister’s out in the country.”

I didn’t answer.