STAYING CLEAN, GOING HOME

With teenage brothers Nicolas and Julian struggling with crack
addiction that was tearing the family apart, their parents sought help
at the Portage rehab centre in the Laurentians. In Chapter 7 of the
family's story, Nicolas takes part in an early graduation ceremony at
Place des Arts. By Christmas, both he and Julian are back at home

Salle Maisonneuve at Place des Arts was packed on Nov. 6. A five-piece
Dixieland band played When the Saints Go Marching In, as 120 teen
addicts who had either stayed straight for a year since their
graduation, or who were about to graduate, appeared from backstage,
descended the stairs and took their seats in the front rows to
thunderous applause and cheering.

About midway up the room sat Jennifer de Freitas and Rodolfo Borello,
who was proudly videotaping the entire event. Their older son Nicolas,
17, was among the teens from the Portage rehab centre for drug and
alcohol addicts. Their younger son Julian, 15, was also a resident at
Portage, but had started the program a few weeks after his brother.

Nicolas had a new suit and shoes for the occasion, and wore a
boutonniere in his lapel. The girls, many in long dresses, their hair
worn up, wobbled across the stage in unfamiliar high heels.

For most of these kids, this was the first time in their lives they
had finished anything other than a drug deal, and they were bursting
with pride. Now they'd received a certificate from someone called the
lieutenant-governor of Quebec and, even though most didn't know what
she did, they knew she was important.

"Today, we are honouring our heroes and heroines and people who have
known hell," said Lise Thibeault as the crowd burst into applause.

Portage, she said, is a place that welcomes broken bodies and tortured
souls, and allows them to be reborn.

Soon afterward, Jennifer moved out of the family home to stay briefly
with a friend, then found herself a small apartment in the area around
Jean Talon market. It's on the seventh floor, with a view of the
mountain and downtown.

"When this happens, you get demolished and then you rebuild in an
atmosphere of therapy," she said over brunch of eggs benedict on Mount
Royal Ave. "If the kids spent eight months learning how to be true to
their emotions, they'd better come home to a place where the parents
are true to their emotions.

"I don't beat myself up, at least no more than usual," she said.
"There are moments when I blame Rodolfo, more or less, moments I blame
society, more or less. You have dark feelings, pride that they're (at
Portage) and, over time, you think: 'If I'd been a different person,
they wouldn't have gone to Portage.'

"Everybody goes through those feelings."

She took a drag on her Benson and Hedges menthol cigarette, and,
although she looked more rested than she had in months, her nails were
still chewed to the quick. She said she's finally come around to
working on her own issues and is learning to express her feelings.

"My whole life, I've questioned myself," she said. "When things
started going really bad, it was like a weight being pushed up and I
just pushed it down."

Then, as she left the restaurant into the biting November wind: "It's
heartbreaking to know or realize you've fallen out of love with
someone who you've been with for 25 years."

On Monday, Dec. 12, Jennifer and Rodolfo drove north through the snow,
along a route they could now probably navigate in their sleep. Up
Highway 15 to Exit 117 to Prevost, then straight to the first set of
lights, an Ultramar station on the right. Follow the curvy and hilly
Chemin du Lac Echo, past the chalets, inflated Santas and snowmen to
Portage, its sign adorned with a metal sculpture of people helping
each other up a hill.

The tables and chairs in the dining room had all been moved to one end
of the room and in their place about 40 Portage residents, in order of
their start date of detox, stood in a large U-shape around the room.
The overhead lights were dimmed and a single string of Christmas
lights adorned the back wall.

Word had spread quickly that Nicolas had finished his final meeting at
Portage with his parents and his counsellors, and they had agreed he
was free to go. Now it was his Bye-Bye, as it's called.

As he entered the room, the teens broke into thunderous applause,
stamped their feet on the wooden floor and cheered. Nicolas stood at
the opening of the U, next to the wall with the Christmas lights. His
fans broke into song, as if at a hockey game, "Oh ay oh ay, oh ay oh
ay..."

Nicolas shifted his weight from one foot to the other and then back
again, a nervous smile pasted on his face, his thumbs hooked in the
pockets of his baggy jeans. The cheering finally faded away but
immediately started up again. Then in unison, they all chanted "Nick!
Nick! Nick!" After about two minutes, Nicolas finally could be heard.

"Salut tout le monde!"

"Salut Nick!" they replied.

Nicolas unfolded a piece of paper and read it in a monotone. He
thanked everyone, especially his parents and Julian for supporting him
and seeing him through.

"We'll see each other again, but on visits, not in
relapse."

Then one by one, residents sauntered into the centre of the U and
faced Nicolas, who was biting the inside of his cheek. They told him
how proud they were of him, that they'd be there for him should he
need them and how he'd been a model for all of them. Then they gave
him a long, forceful hug.

JP, the kid Nicolas smoked a fat joint with the day his parents were
waiting to take him to Portage so many months ago, read a statement
he'd prepared.

"If you hadn't called me on

July 23, I wouldn't be here today."

Jennifer wiped tears from her face with toilet paper from the nearby
washroom. Rodolfo, who had been standing a few metres from her, a wall
separating them, moved in behind her, placed his arm across her back
and on her shoulder, and gave her a soft, light kiss on the head. He
had tears in his eyes.

Then it was Julian's turn. "I'm looking forward to going home ... not
in the way that we looked forward to doing crack, but in a good way.
You're my brother and I adore you."

Two of Nicolas's counsellors told him he had enormous potential to go
places in life. RCMP officer Carol Locas, who went camping with the
group and counselled them on the dangers of drugs, told him he knew
what he had done hadn't been easy. Then he gave Nicolas a small card
with his phone number on it and told him to call anytime, night or
day.

Jennifer, her voice trembling, thanked the group, then turned and
faced her elder son who had caused her so much pain and worry.

"You made some bad decisions, but you made one really good one," she
said. "You did some

really terrible things and I told you that when you finished your
program, I'd forgive you - and today, I totally do."

Rodolfo, perhaps afraid to utter any words for fear of releasing a
flood of tears, simply walked to his son and embraced him for a long
moment.

After a long silence, during which the odd sniffle could be heard, the
room broke into Oh Happy Day, but the words beyond those in the title
turned to jumbled humming. Some threw on their coats, but many, in the
typical teenage approach to winter, darted outside without a jacket,
gloves or hat, and certainly no boots. They charged out into the
night, the sky lit by a three-quarter moon and a smattering of stars,
to the large silver school bell hanging waist-high beside the adult
facility.

Nicolas grabbed the rope and pulled while his new "family" chanted:
"Un Deux Trois Quatre Cinq Six Sept Huit" - one ring for every month
spent at Portage.

Exactly one week later, with less than a week to go to Christmas, the
Borellos made what they hoped would be their last trek to Portage. It
was minus 13 degrees C and the 45 centimetres of snow that had fallen
in the season's first blizzard still blanketed the ground.

Julian had finished at Portage and was congratulated in the same kind
of ceremony as his brother had the week before. But this time, Rodolfo
was composed enough to express himself.

"I just want to tell you my heart soars to know that I have my boys
back."

Epilogue

Julian and Nicolas attend group therapy every Tuesday with Portage
therapist Benoit Lauzon and other graduates.

The first week back at school in January, Julian took a couple of
puffs from a joint offered to him by a fellow student. He said he
immediately felt bad and told his dad. The following weekend, he
returned to Portage for what is called a "back in touch" and has been
clean ever since.

"It's not unusual for kids to slip once they are at home," said
Portage staffer Marie-Chantal Bergeron. "But Julian showed that he had
the tools to deal with it."

Nicolas is working full-time at an IGA store and is taking courses at
night in order to graduate from high school. Both boys, reports
Rodolfo, are helping around the house, keeping their rooms tidy and
trying to rebuild their lives with a new circle of friends.

Rodolfo and Jennifer are still sorting out their relationship.
Portage's director, Patrick Varin, said much of the boys' success
depends on how that separation is dealt with.

A family's fight against crack

Julian, Nicolas and their parents agreed to share their very personal
story with The Gazette in the hope of helping others battling addiction.

Saturday: Chapter 1 - A drug problem uncovered.

Sunday: Chapter 2 - Nicolas on the road to rehab at Portage centre for teen
addicts.

Monday: Chapter 3 - Julian makes it to Portage.

Tuesday: Chapter 4 - Sticking with the program. Daily life in rehab.

Wednesday: Chapter 5 - Support group for parents. What went wrong?

Yesterday: Chapter 6 - Family therapy. Getting ready to leave Portage.

Today: Chapter 7 - Bringing the boys home.

To read this story online or to catch up on chapters that you've
missed, go to www.montrealgazette.com