Marriage Broker
Vato Falman decides it's time to get married
Disclaimer: Hiromu Arakawa owns Fullmetal Alchemist and the characters, of course, unless I end up coming up with any original ones. And I'm not making any money on this.
After the end of the manga, with the bad guys all defeated, Vato Falman (also written Farman) decides he’s finally in a position to get married.
“Physical appearance?” the marriage broker asked, starting the checklist.
“Not important,” Vato answered.
The broker sighed. Another one of those. “Most people have some preferences,” he said. “We might as well get yours out in the open. No sense finding the perfect match on paper, and then her… hair color… is wrong.”
Vato narrowed his eyes, which was quite a feat, considering they were already so narrow. “If her hair color is wrong, she can dye it,” he deadpanned.
The broker took him seriously.
“It might not be hair color….”
“Yes, yes, I know,” answered Vato, annoyed. “I’m 35 years old, and it’s taken me this long to make it from enlisted to Second Lieutenant. I know I can’t have everything I want, so I need to stick with the basics. She has to be young enough and healthy enough to give us children. That’s it, when it comes to the physical. I don’t care about her hair color, her breast size, or even whether she’s a virgin.”
“But if you could….”
“I don’t even want to see a picture,” he continued. “Because yes, of course it matters, and I don’t want to get stuck on the wrong woman because I saw a picture first. If my other criteria are met, I can come to terms with the appearance. As she will have to for me.”
“You prefer an educated woman,” he said, looking past all the other physical appearance questions.
“No,” answered Vato. “I must have an educated woman. That’s a deal-breaker. She can be self-read, though. I don’t require a formal degree.”
The broker nodded. He was starting to think of clients he had been having trouble finding matches for. If Falman was serious about appearance….
“Family background?”
“It would be good if she had grown up around children,” he said. “She’ll be responsible for taking care of the children, not just having them. I can’t afford nannies, and as a military man, I won’t always be stationed close to relatives. I may even have assignments away from our family. Same with housekeeping. Experience there would be good, too. For the same reason. I won’t always be there to help.”
The broker wrote down some notes. “That was understood,” he said. “I wanted to know if you wanted a woman from a professional family, or from a particular religious or ethnic background.”
“It’s not understood,” said Vato. “I almost certainly do not want a woman from an upper class family who has always had servants. We will not have servants. She will not always even have adult help. I’ve even seen middle class families where the daughters don’t know how to care for children or take care of the duties to maintain a house.”
As the broker went through Vato’s requirements, he ruled out more and more of his clients. Finally, he asked one more question: “What about Ishvalan?”
“I’m not Ishvalan,” he answered.
“But would you marry an Ishvalan?”
“They don’t marry non-Ishvalans.”
“But if one would?”
“Would I be required to convert?”
“You would need a certain level of knowledge to raise your children in the religion and in the customs.”
“That could be… acceptable,” Vato answered. “I’ll read up on it before our next meeting.”
“I don’t want to marry a military man!”
“Big Sister, they’re not our enemies anymore!”
“That’s not the problem. I don’t want a military man. They lord it over their wives.”
“At least talk to the broker. Look at his file.”
She saw the picture of a fit, white-haired man.
“How old is he –?” she started, then answered her own question. “Oh, just in his thirties. Is he part Ishvalan?”
Her brother wrote down the question on his notepad. “I’ll check. Anything else?”
She frowned as she got further down. “He’s a virgin? At that age? What’s wrong with him? Does he like men?”
“He wants a family,” said her brother. “You can’t be that picky. Are you serious about getting married, or are you just going through this to please the elders?”
She smiled at him. “You know the answer to that one.”
“Yes, I do,” he said, glumly. “But still, will you at least consider it? If you find someone in the files?”
“Yes, brother,” she said, “but you’re right. I can’t be that picky, but I am. So what are the chances I’ll actually find someone?”
“Do you really want to be childless?” he countered.
“There are worse fates,” she said. “There are worse fates.”
Vato grimaced at the question. “It’s not that unusual,” he said. “Just because I’m not lying about it….”
“If you want to keep her under consideration, then you need to answer her,” said the broker.
“No, I have no interest in men whatsoever. I’m still a virgin because I don’t frequent prostitutes or sleep with women whom I have not married. Nor, frankly, have I had many offers. And none of them in any way attractive to me. What is her excuse?”
The broker was taken aback. “She’s Ishvalan. It would be an insult to even ask that.”
Vato’s mouth turned up in a very small smile. It had actually been a joke, but he said, “Maybe it’s a good question, then. If she’s shameless enough to ask about me, then I’ll return the favor.”
“Mr. Falman,” said the broker, “if you’re not going to be serious, I don’t know why you’re wasting my time.”
“Because I’m paying you,” said Vato. Then he added, “She’s really ugly, isn’t she? Is she deformed? Cleft palate? Missing body parts?”
“I’m not keeping you from looking at her picture,” said the broker, irately. “You’re the one who insisted. She’s healthy, 25 years old, and as far as can be determined, fertile. And she wants children. And is willing to raise them and take care of the household.”
And she had provided a list of books she had read. Not just books she had read, but which ones she had liked and disliked, and why. Apparently, she had a taste for mysteries and mathematics.
“Ask the question,” Vato said. “Why is she still a virgin? And what good is math for raising a family and keeping house?”
Her brother threw down the response from the man who was the only suitor left. “He’s calling you a whore,” he said.
She was taken aback. She had started to warm to the strange officer who hadn’t ruled her out for her equally strange questions. “He did? Did he use those words?”
“No,” said her brother. “At least he’s not crude. It’s part of his answer to your question.” And he handed her the paper.
She read Vato’s answer to her question on why he was still a virgin, and then smiled when she got to his counter question. Then, after a moment, she chuckled.
“It’s not funny,” he said. “It’s disrespectful.”
“Is it?” she mused. “Is it any more disrespectful than my question?”
“You’re talking about marriage,” said her brother. “I thought it was unnecessary on your part, but understandable.”
Then she looked at the other question, about the utility of math.
Vato looked at her response to his questioning of her virginity, and broke out into a wide grin. A woman who could joke about something like that was a good sign, he thought. Then he looked down at her answer to him about math. She used math in her answer. He nodded his head in approval.
“So what’s the catch?” asked Vato. “Is there some problem with her family?”
Vato’s brother-in-law was meeting with the woman’s brother while Vato went over to the park bench where he would be meeting with the woman for the first, and if things went badly, the last, time.
“Are you sure you don’t want to look at her picture?” the broker asked Vato.
“You told me that whatever is objectionable about her appearance would be obvious when I saw her for the first time. Is that false?”
“No, it’s not false,” he said. “And she’s not really ugly. Just not as attractive as the others I have available….”
Vato was wearing his dress uniform. She was considering a military man. He might as well look the part.
To his surprise, and to that of the broker, not one, but two women approached the park bench, one carrying an infant, and the other holding the hand of a toddler.
“I’m sorry, ladies,” said the broker, “this bench is taken….” His words faded away, as he recognized one of the young women as the subject of this meeting with Falman. “I’m sorry, come here, of course it’s all right to bring your cousin and her children.”
Vato looked at both women and at the children. Both women were young, and, to his eyes, perfectly non-descript. He was used to the way Ishvalans looked, so the red eyes and white hair didn’t stand out, and the skin was a perfectly normal shade for a great many Amestrians. The woman with the baby was taller and plumper than the one with the toddler, and there seemed to be splotches of lighter skin on her face. That must be the woman he was supposed to meet.
Before he could turn to her, though, the toddler broke loose and ran at him. “Go ‘way,” he shouted, and he looked as if he might try to hit him.
“Hey,” said Vato, grabbing him by the hands, and stepping back to avoid being kicked. “What am I going to do with you?” Then he grabbed the child by the waist and held him horizontally, against his right hip. The boy went silent. Vato set him on the ground then, and knelt down to get as close as he could to the child’s height.
“Want to go upside down?” he asked. The boy looked at him with wide eyes. “Guess not,” said Vato. “Go back to Mommy… or Auntie… or whoever….” And he turned the child around and gave him a little push.
Then he stood up and introduced himself. “Vato Falman,” he said, looking from woman to woman.
“You can call me Numa,” said the woman holding the baby.
Enjoyed the characters and dialogue.
I like this, Ms. Mary. I didn't expect to, but I do like it. 🙂 Thanks for sharing. Loved the characters and the dialogue.