외상장부
동네?구멍가게인?평화수퍼에는?외상장부가?있었다.?가게주인?아주머니가?연필에?침을?묻혀가며?쓰던?손바닥만?한?공책?말이다.?겉표지엔?‘신문사?집’이라고?적혀?있고,?한?달에?한?번?아버지?월급날에?외상값을?정리하곤?했다.?다른?집은?그?당시의?흔한?반찬거리인?두부나?콩나물이?주종이었는데?우리?집은?달랐다.?처음부터?끝까지?‘소주2,?소주4’ 이거나?아예?같다는?표시로?땡땡점?두개만?죽?찍혀?있었다.?2홉들이인지?4홉들이?소주인지?병수만?구별?잘?하면?외상값?계산은?참으로?쉬웠다.
신문기자였던?아버지는?술을?하루도?거르지?않고?드셨다.?나중에?우리가?커서?대학을?졸업하고?직장을?가졌을?때,?엄마는첫?월급을??기념으로?아버지의?내의?대신?소주?한?박스를?사오라고?하셨다.?동생들도?그?전통대로?하였다고?들었다.?소주한?박스를?받은?아버지의?파안대소가?생각난다.?아주?흐뭇한?얼굴이었다.?선생?노릇을?해서?첫?월급을?탄?딸이?대견했는지?소주?한?박스가?더?대견했는지는?모를?일이다.?후에?신문사에서?직위가?올라도?아버지의?술은?그저?두꺼비가?그려진?그?술이었다.
그?옛날?신촌?로터리에서?연세대학?솔밭?길을?지나?고개를?넘어?연희동?집으로?걸어오시곤?했다.?추운?겨울엔?목도리를?보자기처럼?머리에?쓰고,?연세대학?앞의?하바나?빵집에서?대패?밥으로?포장한?찐빵과?만두를?사서?품에?안고?오셨다.?술이?거나한?아버지가?노래를 부르면서?마을?어귀에?들어서면?동네?개들이?컹컹?짖기?시작하고,?우리는?내복?바람으로?“아버지다.?아버지다!”하고?뛰어나갔다.?아버지보다는?그?빵을?더?반기던?시절이었다.
무교동이나?청진동의?단골?선술집을?들르지?않고?오시는?날은?시인?친구들을?몰고?집으로?오셨다.?집에서?기르던?닭을?잡고?소주를?밤새?마시던?가난한?시인?아저씨들이?생각난다.?아버지의?시에도?술?이야기가?많은?걸?보면?밥보다는?술을?더?좋아하셨던가?싶다.
정년퇴직하신?후?일?년에?한?번씩?미국에 오셔서,?텃밭도?가꾸시고?페인트도?칠하시고?아이?픽업도?해주시던?아버지가?계셔서?두어?달은?편했다.?아버지가?와?계신?동안에?한국에서?드시던?소주만?사다?드린?게?뒤늦게?후회가?된다.?미국?이곳에?흔해?빠진?게?양주인데?아버지는?으레?‘소주’려니?했던?무심함이?이제야?걸린다.?선물로?받은?밸런타인이나?로얄 살루트가?술장에?가득했는데?말이다.?
살가운?딸?애교스러운?딸이?못되어?고명딸이면서도?딸?키우는?재미를?드리지?못한?것도?후회스럽다.?편찮으시단?소식을?듣고?가서?뵙고서?인천?공항에서?헤어진?것이?우리?부녀의?마지막이었다.?손을?흔들고?돌아서는데?아버지의?얼굴이?일그러졌다.웃는?줄?알았는데?자세히?보니?주름?사이로?눈물이?흐르는?거였다.?나는?그때도?“늙으면?주름?때문에?웃는지?우는지?분간이?안?되는구나…”?속으로?생각만?하고?아버지의?맘을?헤아리지?못하였다.?아버지는?다시는?못?볼?줄?아셨나보다.?
곱슬머리?은발에?키가?훤칠하셨던?아버지를?종종?길거리에서?만나는?착각을?한다.?이곳의?미국?할아버지들이?대개?그런?모습이어서?깜짝?놀라는?때가?있다.?아닌?줄?알면서?황급히?뒤를?따라가다가?실망하여?울기를?몇?번이나?했는지?모른다.?그러게?돌아가신?후의?후회는?늘?늦을?뿐이다.?
한국?양조산업의?큰?공헌자인?아버지도,?엄마의?간절한?기도가?통하여?말년엔?신앙생활을?하셨다.?술만?마시던?젊은?날이?하나님께?죄송하고?교우들에게?부끄럽다며?골방에서?세례를?받으신?순진한?아버지.?6월은?돌아가신?아버지의?생신이?있기도?하고?‘아버지?날’도?있는?달이다.?시아버님도?6월에?돌아가셨으니?우리?가정의?6월은?추모의?달이기도?하다.?아버지를?마음껏?그리워해도?좋은?달이다.?
나중에?천국에서?만나면?아버지께?못?다한?사랑의?외상을?갚을?작정이다.
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settling my tab
Our family had a running tab at the local corner store called Peace Supermarket. The store lady would lick the end of her pencil and turn to the same page on a palm-sized notebook. The page said “News Reporter’s House” and once a month, my father would pay our bill on the day he received his salary. While other households purchased tofu and bean sprouts for making side dishes, our family was different. Our entire grocery list read “Soju 2, Soju 4” with occasional ellipses that substituted words, indicating that we had made the same purchase again. Calculating our bill was never difficult as long as we were able to determine whether we had bought #2 bottles or #4 bottles.
My father, a news reporter, drank without missing a single day. When I started my first job, my mother told me to bring home a box of soju, a purchase my father usually made, using my first paycheck. I was later told that my younger siblings made it a family tradition by doing the same when they received their first paychecks. I still remember the way my father smiled when he received that box of soju. It was a look of immense approval. I couldn’t tell whether his approval came from the fact that his daughter had made her first earnings as a teacher or whether it was at the box of soju itself. Even after he rose through the ranks at the newspaper he worked for, my father always drank the soju with a toad logo.
He would walk from the Shinchon roundabout, pass the pine tree-lined road by Yonsei University, and trudge over a hill to reach our house in Yeon-Hee Dong. On cold winter days, he would wrap his scarf over his head and stop in front of Yonsei University at Havana Bakery for steamed buns and dumplings wrapped in wood shavings . When my father, tipsy and humming a tune, neared our house, the neighborhood dogs would start barking furiously and my siblings and I would run out in our long johns yelling, “It’s Dad! It’s Dad!” At the time, I was more excited about the bread my father brought home rather than his arrival.
On the days he didn’t go to his regularly frequented bars in Moo-Kyo Dong or Chung-Jin Dong, he would bring his poet friends to our house. I am reminded of how his penniless poet friends would catch the chickens we raised and imbibe soju all night. Seeing how many of my father’s poems were about drinking, I am almost certain that he preferred drinking over eating.
When my retired father made his annual visits to America, he would mow the lawn, do paint touchups around the house, and pick up my son after school, granting me a much-needed respite during his two month stay. It was not until long after that I regretted buying my father only the soju he regularly drank in Korea. Even though we were in America, the land of a mind-numbing array of liquors and spirits, I naturally assumed soju was his drink of choice. It escaped my mind that?I had a cabinet full of Ballantine’s and Royal Salute whiskies?I received as gifts over the years.
Another regret of mine is not showing my father more affection, especially as the only daughter in the family.?The last time I saw my father was when we parted ways at Incheon Airport. I had flown over after receiving the news of his ailing health. As he waved goodbye and turned away, I caught a glimpse of my father’s crinkled face. At first I mistook him to be smiling but upon closer look, I realized there were tears streaming down the folds of his wrinkles on his face. At the time, I had no regard for how he must have felt and only thought to myself, “I guess that’s what happens when you get old and wrinkled. You can’t tell whether they’re smiling or crying…” My father must have known we were never going to see each other again. When I recall that moment, my heart feels heavy to this day.
From time to time, I would mistakenly spot my father - tall in stature with curly, silver hair-?on the street. It still surprises me that so many men in America are similar in appearance to my father. Even though I already knew, there were many times when I would follow after them only to end up sobbing in disappointment when I realized they were not and would never be the person they resembled. The many regrets I have after my father's death will now always be realized too late.
Once a major contributor to the alcohol industry, my father, through my mother’s fervent prayers, became a Christian late in his life. Ever simple at heart, he repented of his days of avid drinking and was baptized. My father passed away in June, the month of his birthday as well as Father’s Day. My father-in-law also passed away in June, making it a memorial month for our family. It is an apt month for remembrance and memories. When I meet him in heaven, I hope to settle the tab with my father for all the love that I didn't have a chance to repay.
번역: Phoebe Yu
국제펜 세계한글작가대회 기념문집 2017대표작 한글본, 영역본
수필가 이정아
